


Maybe You Shouldn't Come Back

by alwaysdistracted



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23234644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysdistracted/pseuds/alwaysdistracted
Summary: When Catra's best friend, Adora, abandons her at their group home for the promise of a better life, Catra's heartbroken. But she gets over it.It's when Adora comes back, a year later, that Catra has no idea what to do.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Kyle/Rogelio (She-Ra)
Comments: 78
Kudos: 346





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> lost inspo for the last story i had written. thank you all the support on that one, by the way. hopefully one day i'll return to it.  
> this story is all one big, semi-planned, non-edited draft that i'm publishing. i'll edit it later. if i ever finish it.  
> ok thanks that's it. leave me comments, let me know what u think.

It's been eleven days since school's ended.  
  
Catra doesn't know how she passed through junior year. She skipped a record number of classes, slept in through all her exams, and half-assed every project she was assigned. Maybe her teachers didn’t want to have to deal with her next year.   
  
Or maybe they just felt bad for her.  
  
Pity is definitely something Catra's used to. She's a scrawny girl living in a group home on the bad side of town. She's used to getting looks. Empathy. Disgust. Fear. Disappointment. It didn't take long for Catra to learn to keep her head down.  
  
Especially after Adora left.  
  
She was always different. The golden girl. Perfect in every way, despite being raised with the rest of the Horde kids. Kind, charismatic, beautiful, athletic, smart. When she told people where she came from, they looked at her in awe. As though her story made her stronger, more inspirational.   
  
It was no surprise when she got that scholarship. Who wouldn't want Adora? In a way, it was also no surprise when she packed her bags and left. Best friend is just a word. It doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. If there's one thing Catra's learned, it's that people do whatever they want. They come, and they go, but they mostly go.  
  
So why would the golden girl stay?  
  
Catra doesn't care. She doesn't even think about Adora anymore. Yeah, some nights her room feels painfully empty, and some days she'll blink and catch a glimpse of silky blonde hair, but Catra attributes that to lousy ventilation.  
  
After all, Catra managed to survive her whole junior year without Adora. She doesn't need her.   
  
But on the eleventh day of summer, as Catra smokes outside the run-down bus stop, she sees her. It's brief. The bus rolls in, the doors slide open, and Catra looks up to see those familiar blue eyes staring into hers through the tinted bus window.   
  
Catra blinks.   
  
Then the bus drives away, and Adora's gone again. Catra sits down, her head spinning and her heart pounding. She chews on the end of her cigarette.   
  
She figures she'll catch the next bus.

* * *

Summer days are long and lonely.  
  
The air is so thick you could choke on it, and the sun glares upon the town with a ferocity that keeps most kids huddled inside with air conditioning.  
  
A pack of Skittles in her hand, Catra walks home from the convenience store. She takes her usual shortcut through Drug Alley, eager to step into the cool shade. But then she feels a rough hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Wildcat!"  
  
Catra whips around. It's Scorpia, grinning widely. "Oh. Hey. What're you doing out here?"  
  
Scorpia shrugs. She leans against the faded red bricks. "Kyle forgot to do the dishes and now Weaver's on a rip. I figured it'd be smart to get out for a bit." She shakes her head. "Hey, are those Skittles?"

Catra nods and tosses her the bag. She climbs onto the green dumpster behind her and sits down. The day has started to come to an end, and a gentle evening breeze whistles through the alley.   
  
"What d'you do today?" asks Scorpia, mouth full of candy.  
  
Catra considers telling her about Adora, but she isn't even sure it was her. It was super hot outside; Catra was probably seeing things. Besides, it's been a year. Adora's long gone. Why the hell would she come back? "Just hung around. Took a bus to the Happy Mart and picked up a few things."   
  
Catra plays with the pack of cigarettes in her pocket. Scorpia doesn't notice her sudden uneasieness. "You know, this summer's gonna be one for the books."  
  
"Maybe."  
  
Scorpia laughs. "No, mark my words, it will be. It has to! It's our last one, after all. Next summer, we're all 18. We can finally kiss the Horde goodbye!"  
  
"Can't wait," mutters Catra. "I'm dying to get out of this shithole."  
  
"Where will you go?"  
  
"Probably another shithole, I don't know. As long as it's not here."  
  
Scorpia snickers. "Sounds like you've got a plan."   
  
They settle into a comfortable silence. Catra doesn't feel like talking. Truth is, she did have a plan. But people leave and plans change, so Catra figures it's wiser to live in the moment.  
  
"You know, Octavia's having a bush party in the forest behind the Happy Mart," begins Scorpia. "It's on Friday."  
  
"Octavia's never liked me."  
  
"Yeah, but Rogelio and Kyle and Lonnie are going. And so am I. You should, uh, come with me. With us," suggests Scorpia. She scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. "Y'know, kick off our epic summer, hey?"  
  
Catra's first instinct is to turn her down, but she figures it's hard to get through life without friends, and Scorpia and the others are the closest thing she has to that. "Yeah, why not?"

* * *

Catra gets home late that night.   
  
She and Scorpia lost track of time, smoking, snacking on skittles, and idly talking. It was nice. It was even worth Weaver's reprimanding when they got caught sneaking in past curfew.  
  
When she finally kicks off her shoes and settles into her bed, her phone rings. It's an unknown caller. Except, Catra knows exactly who it is. She memorized that number when she was thirteen.   
  
Adora.

Huh. So it really _was_ her.  
  
Catra stares at her phone. She watches it ring. She even considers picking it up. But she lets it ring out, because Adora is a song she can not afford to get stuck inside her head. Not again.  
  
And there's a slight feeling of satisfaction when the phone stops ringing. What did Adora think would happen? Did she think a two-second stare-down would make everything okay? Did she think they would stay up all night and talk? Did she think, after all the times she declined Catra's calls, Catra would answer hers?  
  
If she did, she's an idiot.  
  
Catra plugs her phone in and leaves it on her nightstand. She stares at her ceiling until she manages to shake the flashes of golden hair and bright smiles out of her head, and finally drifts off to a dreamless sleep. 

* * *

Weaver wakes Catra up early to do the dishes.  
  
When she was younger, she would try to argue, but she now knows it's just better to do what Weaver says. She scrubs the dishes thoroughly, careful not to leave Weaver anything to complain about. She finishes, and Weaver comes down to check her work.  
  
"They're not clean, Catra!" she spits. "It's an easy task, washing the dishes. So tell me, are you lazy or incompetent?" Catra winces. The dishes look fine to her, but Weaver demands she re-clean all of them... with bleach.   
  
"Are you serious?" exclaims Catra. "They're already spotless!"  
  
"I will be back in twenty minutes to check again," says Weaver, brushing off the younger girl's concerns. "Don't disappoint me a second time."  
  
Catra huffs. She wants to grab the plates, hurdle them towards the wall, and watch them shatter into a million pieces, but she can't afford getting kicked out of the Horde. She'd been kicked out of two other group homes before winding up here.   
  
Nobody but Weaver wanted her.  
  
So she scrubs the dishes until her hands are red and raw. The smell of bleach fills the air. It gives Catra a headache. There's a strange tingling at the back of her throat.   
  
When Weaver returns, she smiles wide. "See, honey, when you apply yourself... you're capable of great things, Catra. Thank you for your help."

* * *

It's a beautiful day. The sky is painted a morning pink, and the sun casts a warm glow on even the darkest parts of the city.  
  
Catra, Lonnie, and Scorpia walk to the Happy Mart. It's about forty-five minutes away from the Horde, but there's a bus that gets there in twenty. Lonnie wonders why Catra doesn't want them to take it.  
  
"The weather's too nice to take the bus, Lonnie," explains Scorpia.   
  
Catra nods. Sure, that's why.  
  
"We should've invited Rogelio and Kyle, then," adds Lonnie. "They love walking."  
  
"Yeah, but I'm sure they appreciate having the house to themselves," jokes Catra. While they haven't officially come out to anyone, it's clear to everyone that the two guys have a thing for each other. Whenever the group does something together, they always seem lost in their own conversations. They spend more time in their room than anybody else.

"I wonder how Weaver would react if she knew," says Scorpia.   
  
Lonnie laughs loudly. "She'd kill them."  
  
"Weaver's not homophobic, is she?"  
  
"Does she strike you as the accepting type?" asks Lonnie. "Luckily, she's dense. The Horde reeks of gay."  
  
Catra kicks a pebble ahead of her. She watches it bounce down the sidewalk. "Weaver's a bitch."  
  
She feels Scorpia and Lonnie looking at each other. They seem to have a silent conversation right next to her, before Scorpia finally turns to Catra and says, "She treats you unfairly."  
  
"Yeah, she hates your guts, Catra," adds Lonnie. "Scorpia didn't get in trouble, and you two came home at the same time. You've gotta stand up to her sometime."  
  
Catra rolls her eyes. She's tired of this conversation. Any time Weaver punished her, Adora would tell her the same thing. It's a lot easier to stand up to someone when you don't risk losing your home. "Hey, I talk back to her more than any of you guys!"  
  
"Maybe that's why she doesn't like you," jokes Scorpia.  
  
"Nah," chirps Lonnie. "It's 'cause she was roomies with Princess Poptart. Anybody looks bad next to her."  
  
Catra counts the lines on the sidewalk.  
  
"It must've sucked being compared to her all the time," continues Lonnie. "You must be ecstatic she's gone, eh?"  
  
"I mean, I miss her," says Scorpia. "She was fun. I didn't think she'd leave us, though. You don't just leave your family."  
  
"Enough glitz and glam could convince anyone," argues Lonnie. "She was never really one of us anyways. You could tell she belonged on the East side."  
  
Catra groans. The conversation comes to a screeching halt. The two girls mutter quiet apologies, realizing quickly that the topic is still sensitive. Catra puts her hands in her pockets and drags her feet the rest of the way there.   
  
At some point, conversation reignites. Lonnie and Scorpia talk idly about summer plans, Octavia's party, leaving the Horde, and more. They try to include Catra, but she doesn't feel much like talking. She rarely does.  
  
Though it's hard to stay angry on such a wonderful day. The weather feels like a summer's kiss without the fiery heat of a July afternoon. Gentle morning winds carry the scent of fresh cut grass, and a tincture of freshness lingers in the air despite the city's fumes.  
  
The pale grey bricks of the Happy Mart come into view. It's in a small plaza with a laundromat and a spa. The businesses seem to get just enough traffic to stay open, as the parking lot rarely has more than a handful of cars in it. No surprise. There's surely nicer stores on the other side of town.  
  
Lonnie and Scorpia head towards the doors. Catra stops outside.  
  
"You comin'?" asks Lonnie. "I want a slushie."  
  
"I'll meet you guys in there," says Catra. "I'm gonna go 'round back for a quick smoke."   
  
They give her a concerned look, but she smiles earnestly to let them know she isn't mad. Satisified, the two girls head into the convenience store and let the doors swing shut behind them.   
  
Catra pulls out the pack of Camels from the back pocket of her jeans. She lights up, then starts towards the back of the plaza, away from the no-smoking zone. She notices a car pull in.   
  
A Mercedes Benz.   
  
Odd. One doesn't normally see cars like that around here. Catra ignores it. She makes it to the back of the buildings, where there's a communal garbage compactor. She hops on top of it. As she sits down, she notices the Benz turn around. It drifts around the corner, and stops in front of Catra.  
  
Is she going to get jumped?  
  
Wait, why would somebody in a Mercedes jump her?  
  
Catra remains seated. She decides to play it cool.  
  
Then the passenger door swings open, and it becomes incredibly hard to play it cool, because Adora stumbles out.   
  
She seems taller. Leaner. Her face is slightly slimmer, her arms are slightly larger. A waterfall of soft, golden hair cascades over her shoulders. She turns around, mumbles something to the driver, and the car zooms away. Then she looks up, and Catra sees her eyes are the same summer-sky blue, and she struggles to look away.   
  
Catra takes a long drag from her cigarette.   
  
Adora scrunches her nose and swats the air dramatically.  
  
"You really are a Princess now, aren't you?" sneers Catra. Of course.  
  
"You know I never liked smoking," Adora says calmly. Her voice is steady and gentle as a lullabye. Catra almost forgot what it sounded like. "You ignored my call."  
  
"I don't have your number," shrugs Catra. She watches Adora's eyes widen for a split second. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"I promised I'd come back for the summer."  
  
Catra feels her shoulders tense. "You promised you wouldn't leave."  
  
"Why aren't we over this, yet?" asks Adora. "I miss you."  
  
"You didn't seriously just ask that," groans Catra. "This isn't something we can just get over."  
  
"It's been a year."  
  
"Yeah," says Catra. She hops off the compactor. "It has."  
  
She takes a final drag of her cigarette, before throwing it on the ground and crushing it with her shoe. She walks back towards the Happy Mart. Adora grabs her arm.  
  
"Don't touch me," seethes Catra. She whips around to face the startled girl. "And don't call me. And don't follow me. Just leave me the hell alone, Adora."  
  
And with that, she leaves Adora, all blue eyes and glossy lips, standing alone in a lot behind a few ratty buildings. Catra doesn't worry about it. Her friends will turn the Mercedes around soon, and take her back to wherever she came from.  
  
Good riddance.  
  
Catra goes inside to have some slushies.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> re-read my last chap and found a lot of mistakes but im staying true and not editing anything until im completely done. so like.. this is totally raw unedited stuff don't come at me :(  
> bright side, i planned out a plot so at least we're going somewhere!  
> also yeah, i tend to write in short chapters. i mean, i could make them longer, but i just want to get stuff out as soon as i can for u guys.  
> maybe when i do my master edit ill merge them. jk imagine actually getting there.  
> 

The girls are careful not to stay out too late. Octavia's party is in two days, so they can't risk Weaver grounding them.  
  
Half-melted slushies in hand, Catra and the others stroll down the dusty sidewalk. It's half-past noon, and the heat has finally started to get intense. Catra smiles. The taste of strawberry slush and cigarette smoke is fresh on her lips, and an overwhelming sense of pride courses through her veins.   
  
"You've got a bounce in your step," remarks Scorpia. "Too much sugar?"  
  
Lonnie rolls her eyes. "Your teenage girl hormones are out of control, Catra. Your mood's been all over the place today."  
  
Catra gives the duo a playful look. "This is why I don't smile around you guys. Any time I do, you act like the world's ending."  
  
"That's 'cause the end of the world is the only thing that could get you to smile," teases Lonnie.  
  
"You shutting up would also work," quips Catra. "You know, I've always liked Scorpia better."  
  
Lonnie scoffs. "Rude!"  
  
Scorpia does a miniature celebration dance down the sidewalk. She turns to Catra and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, which causes the whole group to burst into laughter.   
  
Catra finds herself wishing she could freeze this moment. It's possible, she remembers, to be genuinely happy without Adora. Why did she ever spend so long chasing after her? Catra deserves better than someone that will toss her aside.   
  
The thrill of finally standing up for herself is better than any high Catra's experienced.  
  
Still, a tiny part of her hurts. It doesn't feel entirely good to push Adora away. Though it does feel a hell of a lot better than being pushed away, Catra's sure about that.  
  
The Horde comes into view, a small wooden condo at the bottom of the steep road.  
  
Scorpia takes off. She sprints down the street, silently challenging the others to a race. Catra may be scrawny, but she's nothing if not agile.   
  
She soars down the sidewalk, the summer sun far behind her, and for a moment she feels like she's flying.  
  


* * *

  
Catra is surprised to see Kyle and Rogelio out of their room. They stand in the main hall, each with a large cardboard box in their arms.   
  
They head towards Catra's room.   
  
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" she exclaims, chasing after them.   
  
Kyle drops his box outside her door. He leans against the wall, gasping for breath. "Can we just leave them here, Ro?"  
  
"No, come on," insists Rogelio. "These are the last ones."  
  
Kyle stretches his back out, then bends down and picks the box back up. The items in the box tumble around, clanging into each other. It sounds like it's full of metal and electronics. 

Rogelio kicks the door to Catra's room open. He and Kyle step inside, leave the boxes, and come back out into the hall.   
  
Catra stands in their way, arms crossed. "What are you idiots doing?"  
  
Kyle flushes a deep red. He's never been good with confrontation.  
  
Rogelio puts a comforting hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Ms. Weaver asked us to unload the truck out back."  
  
Catra opens her mouth to ask why a truck is parked out back, but realization hits her quick.   
  
Oh no.  
  
Even though it's been a while, Catra remembers the routine well. She went through it with Scorpia, Kyle, and Rogelio. She remembers the moving trucks, the paperwork that floods Weaver's office for weeks, and the awfully awkward icebreaker games.  
  
Somebody new has moved into the Horde. And, it seems like they've moved into Catra's room.  
  


* * *

  
A short girl sits, cross-legged, in the center of Catra's room.  
  
Her hair is a crazy, curly mess. It's dyed a rockstar-pink colour. She wears thick-framed glasses, and her clothes are all too big and don't sit right.   
  
Catra approaches her cautiously. The girl turns to look at her, bright eyes wide and curious. Her gaze is so piercing, Catra suddenly feels uncomfortable. She doesn't say a single word as she sneaks to her bed.  
  
The girl glances around the room. Her eyes land on the bed across from Catra. She decides to plop down on it.  
  
Catra cringes.  
  
That's Adora's bed.  
  
"Hi! I'm Entrapta!" says the girl. Her voice is shrill and squeaky. She shuffles on the bed to get comfortable. Catra watches in horror as she ruffles the covers. "I guess we're roomies now!"  
  
Suddenly, the door to Catra's room busts open. Scorpia, Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio rush inside.   
  
"Is it too soon to say hi?" asks Scorpia. She is practically jumping up and down from excitement. "Ah, who cares! Hi, new girl! I'm Scorpia!"  
  
Entrapta shakes her hand.  
  
As Kyle and Rogelio introduce themselves, Catra notices Lonnie looking over at her. They lock eyes.   
  
"Wow, you people are all so nice!" gushes Entrapta. "You're nothing like the girls at the detention center"  
  
Catra chokes. "Pardon?"   
  
"You've been to juvie?" Lonnie looks impressed.  
  
"Yes!" Entrapta doesn't seem proud or ashamed. Instead, she's simply... excited? "I just completed my sentence, actually. They filled my spot at my old group home while I was gone, so my social worker put me here."  
  
Rogelio laughs. "Yeah, we've had an open spot for a while. That bed hasn't been touched in a year."  
  
"Is that why it's so dusty?" asks Entrapta.  
  
"No, that's just the crummy ventilation," explains Kyle. "The air here, uh, isn't very clean."  
  
"I'll have to look into that," Entrapta hums to herself. She takes another glance around the room. "So, what was the last chick like?"  
  
The group's joyous energy dissipates instantly. A sudden silence blankets the room. Everyone turns to look at Catra.   
  
She forces a friendly smile. "So, what'd you do to land in juvie?"  
  
"I built a bomb," says Entrapta blankly. "It was for the school robotics competition. I must have miscalculated when I designed the trigger mechanism, because it spontaneously combusted in my locker in the middle of second period."  
  
Scorpia gapes. "You bombed your school?!"  
  
"Kinda."  
  
"That's sick!" Lonnie high-fives the new girl.   
  
The awkwardness fizzles away as quickly as it settled in. Soon, everyone is talking and joking and laughing again. The group really seems to like Entrapta, notices Catra. This should be a good thing. A new roommate. A new start.  
  
Catra finally has someone she can talk to on those nights it's hard to sleep. She finally has someone she can rant to, gossip to, and pick outfits with. She's no longer the only kid in the Horde without a roommate. She no longer has to look across the room every night, at Adora's achingly empty bed, and be reminded of their painful last days together.  
  
And yet, she isn't the least bit excited.  
  


* * *

  
Catra manages to sneak away from the group.  
  
The whole ordeal has given her a headache. She decides to step outside to escape the noise. As Catra opens the front door, she hears someone clear their throat behind her. It's Weaver. She smiles smugly. Not in the mood for a conversation, Catra turns around and walks away. She lets the door swing shut behind her.   
  
It's as burning hot outside as it has been the past couple afternoons. Catra wonders if there's a heatwave going on. She doesn't really keep up with the weather.  
  
Catra jogs across the street. She cuts through a suburb and hops over a wooden fence to find herself in Drug Alley. The large buildings around her prevent the sun's rays from penetrating. Finally able to breathe, free from all the heat and noise, Catra pulls out a cigarette.  
  
She smokes a lot nowadays.  
  
She didn't always.   
  
Adora used to discourage the habit a lot. She thought the smell of tobacco was disgusting. Once, they got into a big argument about it, and Adora went around to every convenience store in town and passed out Catra's pictures. Even the Happy Mart clerk carded her that day.   
  
But smoking has always been Catra's guilty pleasure. It's a good excuse to leave a room and get some alone time. Nobody disrupts a smoker. Besides, she's a delinquent orphan girl... isn't she supposed to smoke?  
  
Catra flicks her wrist to shake out the ashes.  
  
Quietly, Lonnie turns the corner. She climbs up on the bin and settles down next to Catra.   
  
"You got one for me?" she asks.  
  
Catra tosses her the pack. She watches as Lonnie carefully picks one out. She sticks it in her mouth and shakes her head dramatically. Catra bites back a laugh as she lights the end of Lonnie's cigarette.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Catra looks up at the sky. She focuses on a random cloud.  
  
"So... Entrapta," begins Lonnie.  
  
Catra was waiting for that. "Yeah."  
  
"Listen." Lonnie grabs Catra's hand. "You should give her a chance. I know what you and Adora had was special, and she's not a replacement, but--"  
  
"This isn't about Adora!" blurts Catra. She sounds a lot angrier than she meant to.   
  
"It's not?"  
  
"No! Of course not." Catra pauses. "This is about... Entrapta."  
  
Lonnie raises an eyebrow. "Really, now?"  
  
"Yeah," shrugs Catra. "We just don't click. We don't vibe."  
  
Lonnie shakes her head. She doesn't say anything. The two sit in silence for a while. As she blows clouds of smoke down the alley, Catra realizes that silence tends to follow her around. She glances over at her friend. Lonnie seems frustrated, but afraid to say the wrong thing. Maybe Catra's too hostile.   
  
"Uh, so, you liked her?" tries Catra. It's an effort.  
  
"She fits right in with us," smiles Lonnie. "We're all planning on going out tomorrow. We want to show her around. The Happy Mart, Drug Alley, Old Man Sanders' Cafe, the patch at Bullet Creek where we set off the end of summer fireworks..."  
  
Catra chortles. "I almost forgot about the fireworks."  
  
"Maybe Entrapta will want to make them this year," jokes Lonnie. "Boom!"  
  
Catra laughs in spite of herself. She takes a final puff of her cigarette before tossing it behind her.   
  
Her mood really has been all over the place, hasn't it? Honestly, Catra doesn't really know how she feels about anything anymore. Too much is happening too quickly. All she knows is she loves her friends. And if they want to hang out with Entrapta, then Catra will too.   
  
In fact, it's probably better to be friends with the bomb-building girl than not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm legit so proud of myself. i've been updating so consistently yay. :') you guys seem to really like this story, and thats been motivating me a lot to write it. good things are coming, guys! we boutta get juicy!  
> love yall. cya soon.

When Catra and Lonnie return to the Horde, everyone has retreated to their own rooms. The buzz around Entrapta seems to have finally died down. It's business as usual again.  
  
Kyle and Rogelio's door is shut. The girls decide not to bother them. As they walk by, Scorpia swings the door to her and Lonnie's room open. She leans against the doorframe.   
  
"Hey, Wildcat," she says. "I'm craving Skittles. Happy Mart trip?"  
  
Catra glances at Lonnie. They exchange a look. She turns to Scorpia and smiles softly. "No, I think I'm gonna stay in for a while. Keep Entrapta some company."  
  
If Scorpia's surprised, she doesn't show it. "You're coming around town with us tomorrow?"  
  
Catra nods.  
  
"Alrighty, then!" Scorpia looks at Lonnie. "Happy Mart?"  
  
"Again? Well, I guess there's nothing else to do. Fine." Lonnie follows her roommate outside. She grumbles. "We better take the bus."  
  
Catra chuckles to herself. Her friends are ridiculous. Feeling a lot better than before, she heads to her room at the end of the hall. 

* * *

The first thing she notices is Entrapta hanging off the ledge of the window. Then, she notices Adora's bed, positioned beneath her. In fact, it seems like everything has been moved to Catra's side of the room, leaving the left side completely empty.  
  
"What is going on?" asks Catra.  
  
Entrapta shrieks. Startled, she lets go, and plummets down the nine-foot wall. She lands on Adora's bed, sinking into the fluffy blankets after a small bounce. She scrambles to her feet. Eyes wide and hair messy, she grins. "Sorry there, roomie! Didn't hear ya come in!"  
  
This girl is crazy, thinks Catra. She takes a careful step into her room. "I see you've, uh, moved some things around."  
  
Entrapta laughs. "Oh this?" She gestures towards the empty half of the room. "Yes, I wanted to clear up some room for my experiments! You don't mind, do you?"  
  
With another dresser, bed, and nightstand on her side, there isn't much room to walk left. She needs to climb over a desk to get to her closet.   
  
Catra's eye twitches.   
  
"It's... fine."  
  
Entrapta claps her hands enthusiastically. She brushes the dust off her pants, then climbs back on Adora's bed. She jumps a few times to gain momentum, before leaping up towards the window. She manages to grab onto the ledge, and pulls herself up. She begins to analyze the frame.  
  
Catra decides not to ask any more questions. She squeezes through the small gap between her bookshelf and Adora's nightstand to get to her bed. Sawdust coats her blankets and pillows. Catra looks around to see where it could have come from. She notices one side of her dresser is now a little shorter than the other.  
  
"Entrapta," says Catra slowly.  
  
"Hmm?" The other girl is still perched on the windowsill. She pokes at the glass with a screwdriver.   
  
"Did you sand down my dresser?"  
  
"Yeah, just enough so I could cram it into the corner. It wouldn't fit." She turns around to look at Catra. "That's okay with you, right?"  
  
Catra inhales deeply. She counts to ten. "Yes."  
  
Satisfied, Entrapta resumes her work. It's going to be a long day.   
  
Catra pats the dust off her bed, kicks off her shoes, and settles down. She can already feel a headache forming at her temples. She shuts off her phone and leaves it on the nightstand, then closes her eyes. After such an eventful day, she deserves a break.  
  
The sound of Entrapta's tools scraping against the window is initially irritating, but Catra soon learns to tune it out. The sharp whine of metal scraping against glass is just distracting enough to keep Catra's mind from wandering.   
  
And that's a good thing, because Catra can't get that conversation with Adora out of her head. The hurt in her eyes when Catra told her she deleted her number. The slight quiver of her lip when Catra told her to leave her alone. This morning, Adora got to feel a fraction of the pain Catra felt for months.  
  
But still, Catra was merciful. She was honest with Adora. She didn't leave her with the false promise of friendship. She didn't assure her that nothing could tear them apart, that distance was just a number. She didn't swear that everything would stay the same, but deny her calls the second she moved away.   
  
At least Catra was honest. Adora? She's selfish.   
  
That's why, a year after leaving everything behind her in shambles, she came back. Probably to clear her guilty conscience. She doesn't even consider how long it took Catra to build herself back up again, how long it took her to learn to trust again, to breathe again.  
  
Catra's a wooden tower on a crumbling precipice. Adora can't get too close, or they'll go crashing down together.  
  
"Hey, Roomie?" asks Entrapta. "You mind holding this?"  
  
Catra climbs around the furniture. Entrapta passes a grimy panel down to her. "You took out the window guard? I thought it was bolted down."  
  
"Not anymore." Entrapta jumps down to the bed. She hops up on her feet. "This way, we can fully crank the window open. Get some cool, clean air circulating for once."  
  
How the hell did she do that with only a screwdriver? "You know, Weaver put the blocks in place so we couldn't sneak out. She's gonna be pissed."  
  
"Well, I promised I'd fix the shitty ventilation." Entrapta runs a hand through her unruly hair. She shrugs. "Besides, what Weaver doesn't know won't hurt her."  
  
Catra can't help the corner of her mouth from turning up.

* * *

Weaver orders pizza for dinner to celebrate Entrapta's arrival. She lets the teens eat in front of the television as long as they don't argue over the remote.   
  
Since Entrapta's new, Lonnie lets her choose the channel. Seven minutes into the History Channel's documentary on architecture through the Victorian era, someone steals the remote and puts on Grey's Anatomy. While Catra prefers her shows less soapy, she doesn't complain. As long as she doesn't hear the words "Gothic Revival" and "Romanesque style," she's cool with it.  
  
Once dinner's over, everyone hangs around and plays a quick game of charades. The teams are finally even, as everyone can partner with their roommate. Adora and Catra couldn't ever get through a round without breaking into a fit of giggles over some inside joke. When it comes to charades, Catra is used to losing.  
  
Kyle and Rogelio, the longtime reigning champions, go first. Despite Kyle's terrible acting, Rogelio guesses every word. They seem to understand each other perfectly. Scorpia and Lonnie go next. They don't click at all. Lonnie's frustrations grow with each of her partner's guesses.  
  
"You're just saying random stuff at this point!" she exclaims.  
  
"Orange! Turtle! Popcorn?"  
  
Lonnie gives up. Exasperated, she collapses onto the sofa and buries her face in a pillow.  
  
Catra and Entrapta go last. Entrapta doesn't guess a single word incorrectly. She guesses each word so quick, Catra barely gets the chance to act out the next one. When the timer goes off, they've doubled Kyle and Rogelio's score.  
  
"What?!" yells Kyle. He stomps his feet. "How the hell did she do that?! They have to be cheating!"  
  
"They're not cheating, Kyle," chuckles Rogelio.  
  
"It's Catra!" Kyle points at her. "Of course she's cheating! Rematch!"  
  
Lonnie gets up. "No way. I won't make it through another round with Scorpia. No offense."  
  
Scorpia shrugs it off.  
  
"Catra, one more!" insists Kyle. "Just to prove your win was legit."  
  
Catra rolls her eyes playfully. "Bro, my teammate watches history documentaries for fun. Of course she's good at nerdy crap like charades."  
  
Rogelio nudges Kyle. "I bet you can't wait 'til Scrabble night."  
  
Kyle gasps. "My win streak!" He goes pale for a moment, before racing towards his room. Rogelio trudges behind him.  
  
Lonnie laughs heartily. "Well, looks like someone's going to stay up all night practicing." She looks at the clock on the wall. "Damn, it’s late. You mind if I go? I don't want to sleep in for tomorrow."   
  
Catra nods.   
  
Scorpia stays to help put the dishes away. She knows if they're left out, Weaver will probably punish Catra for it. Once all the plates are drying in the sink and the table has been wiped clean, everyone splits off.   
  
Catra and Entrapta return to their room.   
  
Catra shuffles around a little in her bed. It's hard to get comfortable. The bookshelf looming over her makes her a little claustrophobic, and the remnants of sawdust on her pillowcase tickle her nose.   
  
In spite of this, sleep comes easily. Maybe it's the ridiculous way Entrapta re-arranged the room, or maybe it's simply her presence, but Catra's room feels a lot less empty than it did before.

* * *

Catra's alarm doesn't go off.  
  
When she wakes up, she realizes she left her phone shut off on the nightstand. She must have had too much fun during dinner to notice. Catra waits anxiously for it to boot back up.

Turns out it's two in the afternoon.  
  
She shoots out of bed and races down the hall. She knocks briefly on Scorpia and Lonnie's door. No answer. She swings it open.   
  
Empty.  
  
She doesn't have much luck with Kyle and Rogelio, either. Everyone is gone.  
  
Catra runs to the kitchen. She shoves a granola bar in her pocket, then rushes to the main hall. Weaver turns the corner as Catra struggles with her shoelaces.  
  
"You slept in," she says sternly. Catra braces herself for a lecture, but it doesn't come. She looks up at Weaver. Her lips are pressed tightly together, but there's a hint of amusement in her eyes. She knows something Catra doesn't. "You're going out in your pyjamas?"  
  
"It's just sweats and a tanktop. No one can tell." Once her shoes are on, she bolts through the door.   
  
Catra jogs across the street. She takes her usual route to Drug Alley. Again, no one is there. Catra kicks the dumpster in frustration. Didn't she say she was going to go with them? She was actually beginning to tolerate Entrapta! Besides, it would have been fun to show her around.  
  
Maybe her friends didn't think she wanted to go. Maybe they didn't want to wake her up. She decides to call Scorpia.   
  
Straight to voicemail.  
  
Catra groans. Once she tries Lonnie's cell, to no avail, she decides to embark on the long trip to Happy Mart and hope it's not a waste of time.

* * *

Sunshine dances off the store windows.  
  
Catra couldn't find anybody at Happy Mart. However, while she was there, she remembered she left her pack of smokes in her jeans. She didn't have any cash on her either, but the shop owner knows her well, so he let her start a tab.  
  
Catra's last resort is Old Man Sander's Cafe. She saunters down Main street, cigarette in hand, in search of her friends' favourite coffee place. She catches her reflection in a store window. She's a tired, sweaty mess.  
  
No surprise. It's half past four. She's been all over town.  
  
Finally, the cafe comes into view. Catra leaves her cigarette in an ashtray outside. A bell jingles when she enters the shop. The air conditioning feels nice against her damp skin.  
  
"Hey!" calls a voice from a booth in the back. Catra's head jerks up. It's Entrapta. She runs over.   
  
"Wait," begins Catra, as she approaches the booth. "Where is everyone?"  
  
"I don't know. Everyone left a few hours ago. I thought they went to get you."  
  
"You've been here alone since the morning?" exclaims Catra. Their friends just abandoned her? That sounds nothing like them.  
  
"Yeah. I don't know my way back to the Horde, but that’s okay. I figured someone would come back for me eventually," shrugs Entrapta. She takes a sip of her drink. "Want an iced coffee?"  
  
Catra sighs. She takes a hesitant seat across from Entrapta.  
  
What the hell is going on?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright friends it's been a few days but we have another update.

Catra stays at the cafe for a while.  
  
At first, things are slightly awkward. Entrapta rambles on about nothing in particular, while Catra half-listens. She's more focused on the mystery surrounding her friends. Why did they leave? Where did they go?   
  
Maybe they went back to the Horde to wake up Catra, but something happened to them on the way there.  
  
Catra furrows her brow. No, that theory doesn't make much sense. Why would all of them leave together, without Entrapta?  
  
"Catra?" asks Entrapta. "You listening?"  
  
Catra nods absentmindedly. Maybe Entrapta annoyed everyone away. But again, that wouldn't explain why everyone's ignoring Catra's calls.  
  
"Alright there, Roomie," says Entrapta. She sighs and takes a long sip of her iced coffee. It's her fourth one. "Tell me what's on your mind."  
  
Catra meets Entrapta's gaze. Her keen eyes are piercing as ever. They seem to probe Catra's face for an answer. She gives in. "How aren't you upset?"  
  
Entrapta blinks. "Why would I be upset?"  
  
"They abandoned you!" Catra blurts out. "For hours, apparently! They just left you sitting here, by yourself, drinking your coffee alone!"  
  
Entrapta shrugs. "I like coffee."  
  
Catra's exasperated. She facepalms. Maybe Entrapta really did annoy everyone away.   
  
"Besides, I don't know your friends too well, but I can tell they're good people," adds Entrapta nonchalantly. "And when good people leave, they often have a good reason. And they often come back."  
  
"You got any proof supporting your hypothesis?" grumbles Catra.  
  
"Only anecdotal evidence," replies Entrapta playfully. She gets serious. "My Dad left when I was little. And he wasn't a good person. And he didn't come back. And I bet there's a correlation between those two things, so I figure the inverse is true."  
  
Catra doesn't miss the way Entrapta's eyes dart around the room, for a brief moment, at the mention of her father. She doesn't miss the way her penetrating stare suddenly becomes soft and vulnerable. She doesn't miss the indescribable flash of emotions that pass over her face: abrupt and painful as a car crash.   
  
It's all so quick, Catra wouldn't have noticed it if she didn't know what to look for. But that brisk, involuntary unveil of emotional complexity and half-processed turmoil is one all too familiar to Catra. She's seen it, felt it, and tried to stomp it down many times.  
  
Maybe things happen the way they do for a reason.  
  
Catra smiles earnestly at the girl across from her. She has more in common with her roommate than she initially thought. While everyone else around them come and go, they stay.   
  
"Entrapta," mumbles Catra. "I want to tell you something I haven't told the others. But you have to keep it between you and me."  
  
Entrapta nods. "That's what roommates are for!"  
  
"Not roommates. Friends."  
  
With that, Catra busts through a door she's kept boarded off for a year. She tells Entrapta all about Adora. How they were friends. How she left. How she came back. How Catra chased her away again.  
  
And Entrapta listens intently. She asks a lot of questions. Some catch Catra off guard, and take her a moment to answer. Others, no matter how hard she reflects, she can't find an answer for. By the time Catra's finished her story, they've gone through three more rounds of iced coffee.   
  
It takes another two rounds for Entrapta to share her story. How her mother died young. How she threw herself into books to escape. How her father, burdened with raising her alone, left. How an experiment gone awry got her kicked out of her foster home and sent off to a group home. How another experiment gone awry got her sent off to juvie.  
  
Catra finds herself fascinated by Entrapta's life. It's hard not to interrupt with comments and questions.  
  
"That's stupid, isn't it?" asks Catra. "It was an accident. Yet they still kicked you out of the foster program?"  
  
Entrapta runs a hand through her hair. "Yes, they did. It's a societal thing, I've noticed. When a foster kid screws up, people tend to assume it's on purpose. They're quick to label us as 'troubled kids.'" She adjusts her glasses. "And negative expectations can influence the way people act. If you tell someone they have no future, expect them to be failures, and wait for them to get caught up in drugs and alcohol... what do you think's going to happen?"  
  
The pack of cigarettes in Catra's pocket feels heavier than usual. She shakes her head. "We just want someone to root for us."  
  
Entrapta's eyes twinkle in the dim light of the coffee shop. "We have to root for each other."

* * *

Maybe it's the caffeine buzz, but Catra and Entrapta stay at Old Man Sanders' Cafe until it closes. Thank goodness summer days are long, because even at 9 o'clock, the sun is still poking its head over the horizon.  
  
As the sky overhead blushes a deep orange, Catra and Entrapta walk home. The air is dry and stale, and leaves a hint of bleach and sunscreen in the girls' mouths. They stroll at an easy pace with their arms swinging from side-to-side.   
  
There's no rush.  
  
The daylight is fleeting when they turn into Drug Alley. Catra was half-hoping her friends would be there, but it's empty. They pass through the dusty lane, and Catra remembers she's still in her pyjamas. The bottom of her sweatpants trail on the ground. The dirt tints them brown. She'll have to change when she gets home.  
  
Once they hop the fence on their route, the Horde comes into view.  
  
God, it's an ugly building.  
  
Catra glances at Entrapta. She expects her to bolt down the street like Scorpia and Lonnie do. They love racing down the hill. However, Entrapta keeps a steady pace.   
  
Catra finds she isn't as disappointed as she thought she'd be. There's something nice about their blissful amble.   
  
They take it slow, trying to make their hushed summer moment outside the Horde last as long as possible.

* * *

The first thing Catra does when she gets inside is check for her friends.  
  
They're not home. Nobody's heard from them since the morning.  
  
Catra tries not to panic as she rushes through the house in search of Weaver. She finds her in her office, combing through a stack of paperwork. Catra hesitates momentarily before running in, as Weaver hates being interupted when she's doing office work. But her friends' safety is worth the risk of getting in trouble.  
  
She barges in. "Weaver!"  
  
"Ms. Weaver," corrects the older woman. She doesn't even look up from her files.  
  
"Lonnie and Scorpia and Kyle and Rogelio have been gone all day," she says. "I'm starting to get worried. They bailed on our plans, and they won't answer my calls, and--"  
  
"It's fine, Catra," interrupts Weaver calmly. "They checked in around four to ask for permission to stay out past curfew. Speaking of, you came home rather late."  
  
"It's still bright outside," argues Catra.  
  
"Curfew is a fixed time, not the level of light." Weaver finally looks up. "Take after your friends. If you want to stay out late, call and ask. Your recent behaviour is a liability."  
  
Catra fidgets as Weaver digs into her. She instructs Catra to tidy her room. No, everyone's rooms! "Since they're all away, we have a good chance to get some thorough cleaning done."  
  
Catra groans. No point in arguing. She trudges upstairs and gets to work.  
  
Kyle and Rogelio's room is a mess. There are clothes all over the floor and on the furniture. There's even a pair of pants hanging off the clock. Catra has to throw a slipper at it to knock it down. But once everything's put away in their closet, the room looks okay.  
  
Lonnie and Scorpia's room is even worse. Scorpia's makeup is littered all over the counter, and there are stacks of dirty dishes under the bed from Lonnie's late night cravings. The room needs to be vacuumed and mopped, and all the linens to be changed. It takes so long, Catra figures they'll come home before she's done.  
  
But they don't.  
  
She looks at the clock. It's almost quarter past eleven.  
  
Where the hell are they?!  
  
When Catra enters her room, she's surprised to see all the furniture rearranged to one side. She forgot Entrapta did that. With Entrapta's reluctant help, she moves everything back to where it's supposed to be. It's hard. The furniture is heavy. Catra has no idea how tiny little Entrapta displaced everything on her own.   
  
In an hour, everything is back to normal. Catra's dresser looks lopsided and stupid in the center of the room, with one side sanded down. Hopefully Weaver won't notice.  
  
Catra returns to the supervisor's office to report her job is done. The lights are turned off. Catra pulls out her phone. It's past midnight now.  
  
Assuming Weaver's gone to bed, Catra heads to her room. Her body's tired, but all the caffeine and sugar in her system keep her from falling asleep. She collapses onto her bed, dirty sweatpants still on, and lets her mind wander.  
  
Entrapta speaks up from the other side of the room. "Where do you think they are?"  
  
"I have no idea."  
  
Even in the hours it takes Catra to finally drift off to sleep, nobody comes home.

* * *

Catra wakes up to the sound of music in the kitchen. A 90s rock song.  
  
She rubs her eyes and hops out of bed. Entrapta's already gone. Of course she's an early riser. The smell of eggs and bacon floats down the hall. Catra enters the kitchen to see a pot of coffee brewing.  
  
"Morning, sleepyhead," giggles Scorpia.   
  
"Yikes, Catra, your hair's a mess," says Lonnie. She covers her face dramatically.  
  
Catra rolls her eyes. Everyone sits around the breakfast table, chatting, as Rogelio cooks the food. Catra takes a seat. She waits for someone to address what happened yesterday.  
  
Nobody does.  
  
"Who wants coffee?" asks Kyle. He stands and brings the pot over.  
  
Entrapta and Catra exchange a look. Entrapta giggles. "Not us. We'll explode if we drink any more."  
  
"Yeah, we stayed at the cafe for a while," says Catra slowly. "Speaking of, where were you guys?"  
  
"You actually woke up?!" teases Lonnie. "You slept in so long I thought you were dead."  
  
Everyone laughs.   
  
Catra drums her fingers on the mahogany table. She heads to the fridge to get some orange juice. She's not oblivious to the way Lonnie avoided her question, but she doesn't want to make a scene and kill the mood.   
  
She'll find out eventually.  
  
Catra brings over the pitcher of juice. She pours herself a glass, then passes the pitcher over to Entrapta. This kicks off a rant about how much processed sugar is in an average cup of juice, and why people who don't drink the pulp will die sooner. Her sudden passionate monologue startles the table into silence. The conversation stalls briefly before it reignites.  
  
"Dude, this tastes amazing!" gushes Kyle. He looks at Rogelio. "You're real talented."  
  
"I love when it's Rogelio's day to cook," says Lonnie. "It's the one time I can eat without fearing for my life."  
  
Kyle scoffs. "Come on, Lonnie. You only ever make mac and cheese."  
  
"At least I don't think I'm on Master Chef," rebuts the girl. She crosses her arms. "Don't try to make Parmesan Risotto if you can barely turn on the oven."  
  
"Too bad Rogelio's day lands on Octavia's party," says Scorpia. "She said she's ordering pizza, so we don't need to eat before we go."  
  
"Did anyone tell Weaver about it?" asks Lonnie. "She knows we'll be out late again, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I told her a while ago," says Scorpia. "Entrapta, are you going to come with us?"  
  
Entrapta gulps her mouthful of food down before replying. "I don't think so. I still have a lot of things to unpack."  
  
"No worries. Catra, you're still coming though, right?"  
  
Catra glares at Scorpia. "Yeah. Are you?"  
  
Catra didn't want to make a scene. She didn't want to let everyone see how angry she was. But for some reason, the way everyone has acted like everything's normal and the way they've lied and kept her in the dark has _really_ started to piss her off.  
  
Scorpia laughs off the attack. "Totally. Octavia would be on our ass if we didn't show up." There's some awkward laughter around the table.  
  
"She'd have the fucking right."  
  
The cutting edge of her words surprise everyone into an uneasy silence. With that, Catra takes her empty plate to the sink and storms off.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes im alive lol. yes its been more than a month. yes regular updates will be happening now yay.  
> no, i haven't forgotten about you guys. in fact, this chapter's longer than most so hopefully that makes up for it. also juicy stuff happens yknow.  
> love you. don't forget to leave a comment. i wanna hear your thoughts!

Catra slams the door so hard, she's sure no one will ever be able to open it again. The force seems to shake the foundation of the house.   
  
Catra paces around her room. It's spotless. She grabs a pillow and hurdles it towards Entrapta's side. It isn't as satisfying as she thought it'd be.   
  
She throws a lamp. It hits a wall. The lightbulb shatters.  
  
It gets increasingly hard to breathe. Catra catches a glimpse of her face in the mirror. She's flushed an angry red.   
  
She needs to get out.  
  
Part of her is embarassed. She didn't want to lose her cool. She didn't want her friends to know how upset she is. She didn't want them to know how much she cares.  
  
Catra feels silly. She feels childish.   
  
It frustrates her further.  
  
She refuses to walk past the kitchen and out the front door. She doesn't want to face her friends. Her eyes dart around the room.   
  
They fix on the window.

* * *

Catra's nestled in her dull, yellow hoodie. She leans against the chalky brick walls of Drug Alley, her feet swinging off the dumpster.  
  
The heatwave seems to finally be over. The morning had been simply dark and overcast as she walked to Drug Alley, but as soon as she settled down, it became a wall of water.   
  
Sheltered by the hanging roof above her, she listens to the rain pound ferociously against the sidewalk. Water gurgles down the asphalt into storm drains. Trees dance in the howling wind.   
  
It's a picture-perfect storm.  
  
But through all the noise and chaos, Catra can still hear her heart hammering against her chest. She tries to quiet it with a cigarette.  
  
The familiar click of her lighter is soothing on its own. She feels herself relax before the tobacco even grazes her lips. She takes a long drag, filling her lungs with thick black smoke, and it's suddenly easier to breathe.  
  
Bliss. Catra's eyes roll up into her head.   
  
The world tears itself apart outside, but it's deathly quiet in the alley. Catra feels like she's sitting in the eye of the storm. But at least it's calm here. At least it's okay.

Catra watches her smoke rings drift off into the endless sky.

* * *

Cigarette butts litter the ground.   
  
Catra's nearly gone through her whole pack when she feels her phone buzz. She whips it out her back pocket.  
  
A text from Lonnie. "You still comin 2nite?"  
  
She's surprised the party's still on. How can you have a bush party in the rain? As much as she dreads seeing her friends, Catra figures she'll still go. It's hard to say no to free booze, and she doesn't want anyone twisting her absence into proof of hypocrisy.   
  
Catra shoves her phone back into her jeans without replying. She tries to remember where Scorpia said the party was. It feels like so long ago since she asked her. So much has happened since then.   
  
It's somewhere in the forest behind the Happy Mart, right?   
  
The rain has settled down. There's small trickles, like a faucet not turned off the whole way. It's tolerable enough. Hands hidden deep within the pocket of her hoodie, Catra shuffles down the wet streets.  
  
The walk to Happy Mart is a mindless one. Her body takes here there out of habit. It allows her mind to wander. She tries to take the time to process her feelings, and sort them out, but they're as murky as the puddles sitting between the sidewalk cracks, as hostile as the East Coast weather, and as overwhelming as the flashes of blue eyes and bright smiles that still keep her up some nights.  
  
She enters the plaza. It's as barren as ever. She considers stopping at the Happy Mart to get a snack, but decides against it. She ducks behind the buildings.  
  
On the backside of the plaza, there's a garbage compactor shared by the Laundromat, the Spa, and the Happy Mart. There's also a loading dock for deliveries. Behind all that, there's a chain-link fence that seperates the lot from a dense forest.  
  
Catra hops over the fence with ease. She lands on a sharp decline, and slides down the muddy path deeper into the woods. She almost loses her balance a few times, but she's agile. When she finally reaches flat ground, it's dark. The trees do a good job at blocking whatever daylight was left in the sky. Catra has no idea where she is, or where she should go.  
  
There's faint laughter coming from the right, and a flicker of light behind the trees.   
  
She strolls towards the party.

* * *

It's a simple gathering. Around twenty people with paper cups in their hands, a crappy stereo playing some classic rock music, two wooden kegs on the ground, and something that looks like a crackpipe being passed around. In the centre of it all, there's a makeshift firepit.  
  
Just your classic bush party.  
  
Catra immediately regrets going. Octavia and her friends hate her. Catra's friends probably hate her right now too. Honestly, there's no good reason to be here.  
  
But then she hears someone call, "Catra!" from behind her and she decides to swallow her doubts.  
  
She whips around. "Hey, Lonnie."  
  
Lonnie gives her a once over. "You're soaked."  
  
"It was raining a bit earlier."  
  
"Finally, huh?" says Lonnie. "About time. I felt like I was livin' in a barbeque."   
  
Catra bites her lip. Are they really chatting about the weather? She inhales sharply. The smell of wet grass and alcohol fill her nostrils.   
  
Lonnie opens her mouth to say something.  
  
"I'm gonna go grab a drink, alright Lon?"  
  
Lonnie presses her lips together. She almost sighs. "Yeah, I'll be here."  
  
Catra walks away as fast as she can without being weird. Once she's a good few metres away from Lonnie, she lets out a breath. She's still kind of mad at her friends, but she's more confused than anything. And this confusion is just making everything extremley awkward.   
  
Catra turns around. She spots Lonnie talking to Rogelio by the firepit. They glance her way. Catra quickly averts their eyes.  
  
How did things suddenly become so weird? Why are her friends keeping secrets from her?  
  
Catra reaches for a paper cup and fills it with beer from the keg. She downs it quickly. She's halfway through her second when a guy comes up to her.  
  
"Hey. Haven't seen you around," he says. "Friends with Octavia?"  
  
Catra shakes her head. "Nope."  
  
He steps closer to her. "You look good."  
  
"Thanks," she mutters. She drinks from her cup.  
  
"Do you want to... you know...?"  
  
Catra shakes her head. "Nope."  
  
He shrugs. "Oh. Okay, fair enough." He bends down and fills his own cup, then walks away. Catra snickers. That was an oddly pleasant interaction.   
  
She spends the rest of the night standing by the keg. She chats up everyone who goes to fill up their cup. They're short, quick conversations, which is perfect because that's all Catra can tolerate. Her friends all stay by the second keg, on the other side of party.  
  
Soon enough, Catra loses track of how many drinks she's had. She notices Octavia for the first time that night, glaring at her from across the clearing.   
  
Feeling cheeky, Catra blows her a kiss.  
  
Octavia looks like she's going to march over and say something. Catra squints, trying to get a better view of the girl's reaction, when suddenly her vision is obstructed.  
  
Scorpia stands in front of her, an apologetic look written all over her face.  
  
"Wildcat, are you okay?" she asks. "I've been trying to work up the nerve to talk to you for the past two hours and I just really don't want you to be mad at me."  
  
The ground is spinning and the trees are dancing. Catra knows she's drunk. She knows she shouldn't say anything, that opening her mouth will only lead to more problems... but she does anyways. "I am mad, yeah."  
  
"Okay, and you have every right to be--"  
  
"You're right. I do." slurs Catra. "I jus' wanna know what happen'd."  
  
Kyle runs up to join them. "Catra!"  
  
Catra turns her head and smiles at him lazily. "Yo, Kyle!"  
  
Kyle looks at Scorpia. "Is she mad? She doesn't seem mad."

"She's drunk," says Scorpia.  
  
"I'm mad," corrects Catra. "You ditched Entrapta. And me. You ditched us. An' you've been lyin' and shady and weird since."  
  
"I didn't want to, but Lonnie--" begins Kyle, before a sharp elbow from Scorpia shuts him up. He glares at her, straightens his back, and starts again. "Look, Catra, Lonnie didn't want us telling you."  
  
"Kyle," growls Scorpia. "Shut up."  
  
"I thought you were gonna tell her."  
  
"I _was_ , but look at her!" whispers Scorpia. "I don't think this is the time. She's drunk, she'll overreact--"  
  
"Well, I want to tell her."

"Kyle, don't."  
  
Catra raises an eyebrow. "What is it?"  
  
Scorpia hesitates.   
  
Kyle jumps in. "Adora's in town. And we hung out with her and her friends last night."  
  
Catra's heart stops. She stumbles backwards, the ground beneath her unsteadier than it's ever been. She suddenly feels like throwing up, and maybe it's the alcohol, but she feels hot. A fever kind of hot that burns from within and leaves your fingers and toes feeling a numb. A hot that smells like fresh skid marks on dry concrete, that tastes like burnt rubber, that--  
  
"She texted me yesterday morning," elaborates Scorpia. "While we were with Entrapta. We didn't want to ditch her but Adora said she's leaving town tomorrow and... We couldn't just not go. I mean, it's Adora. We all wanted to see her again."  
  
Kyle bites his lip. "We should've been honest with you. But like, you were so hurt when she left and she said she didn't want to see you--"  
  
Catra feels her fists tighten. She feels her nails dig sharply into her palm. She realizes she's angry. She's a hot, booze-infused, unstable kind of angry. The kind of angry she didn't know she could feel anymore.  
  
"Catra," pleads Scorpia. "I'm sorry. And you've got every right to be mad, but we missed her--"  
  
Catra shoves her. Hard. Scorpia falls backwards. Her eyes dart towards Kyle. He whimpers and scrambles out of the way.  
  
Scorpia rises to her feet shakily. She seems a little tispy too. "Okay, I deserve that, but--"  
  
Catra swings at her. She doesn't think about it, she just does. But Scorpia's more level-headed than she is, and Catra's punch was probably sloppy, because Scorpia manages to step out of the way. She raises her hands in surrender.   
  
"Catra, listen--"  
  
Another swing. Another miss. Catra stumbles towards her.   
  
She feels a strong hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Fuck, Scorpia, this is why I didn't want her coming," says Octavia. "She's a fucking child, always making a scene--"  
  
Catra swings her elbow behind her as hard as she can. It connects with Octavia's nose.  
  
"Fucking bitch."  
  
And Catra doesn't really know what's going on anymore, who's talking, what's happening... Her mind's murky, everything's blurry, and it must be raining again because Catra's cheeks feel wet. Catra doesn't know what's going on. But she keeps punching Octavia.  
  
And Octavia keeps punching her back.  
  
There's a kick. It sweeps Catra's feet from beneath her. She falls on the dirt with a cold thud. Octavia turns to walk away.  
  
And that's when Catra leaps up and knocks her down her. She climbs up on her stomach and beats her face in. Octavia's a bitch. She's a bitch. She's rude, she's mean, and she treats Catra like she's worthless. Everyone does.   
  
Eventually, strong hands are on Catra's shoulders again. They pull her off Octavia. Catra's panting, and she's still angry, but now she feels more drunk than anything. She squirms out of Scorpia's grasp.  
  
There's a crowd now. Pretty much everyone at the party surrounds her. She can't see their faces. Catra spits. The taste of salt and metal and beer still sits on her tongue. She spots Rogelio and Lonnie standing next to Kyle and Scorpia.   
  
She turns to them. "Enjoy the show?!"  
  
Everyone's quiet. She's making a scene, she knows it. Her voice is hoarse and it trembles and it cracks and she knows she looks like a pathetic idiot, but she continues.   
  
"You chose Adora over me. And you lied to me about it. Why?" She wobbles forward. Her eyes don't focus on anyone in particular. "You knew I'd get upset, you knew it. But a day at the beach, or the park, or fuckin' Candyland with Adora was worth it, wasn't it?"  
  
She fumbles for her phone. It's cracked. She groans and shoves it back in her pocket.  
  
"I'm not surprised though," she says. Her words all slur into one another. She wonders if anyone can understand her. "It's always been Adora over me. Everyone's always treated me like shit. Everyone's always chosen her. So go ahead, fuckin' abandon me just like she did. Whatever. If I'm not good enough for you lowlifes, I'm not good enough for anyone, am I? Whatever."

* * *

Catra doesn't remember how she got out of the forest.  
  
She knows she did it alone, because nobody in their right mind would follow her after everything that happened.   
  
The climb up the hill is hard. She grabs onto everything she can and drags herself up. She tries to climb back over the fence. It catches on her jeans, and sends her tumbling over. Catra lies in the grass for a moment. When she gets up, she throws up all over the curb. It sobers her up quickly.  
  
Groaning, she stands. Every part of her is sore.  
  
She reaches into her pocket for her pack of smokes. It's not there. It must've fallen out during all the commotion. She checks her phone for the time. It's twelve fifty something, there's a crack covering the last digit. Catra's grateful the Happy Mart is open twenty four hours a day.  
  
She limps around the plaza and into the store.  
  
Some teenage clerk sits behind the counter. He's reading a magazine. Catra slaps a twenty onto the counter.   
  
He yawns. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"One pack of camels. Charge me for two, I've got a tab."  
  
The clerk looks up. He flinches when he sees Catra's disheveled state. "Oh, uh, anything else?"  
  
Usually, it's a no. But Catra figures she'll buy herself a pack of skittles to make the walk back to the Horde a bit more bearable.  
  
She turns around to browse through the snack aisle. She hears the door to the Happy Mart open, but she's too distracted to care.  
  
Then, suddenly, the smell of lilac and vanilla hits her like tsunami. Catra looks up.  
  
Adora walks right by her.  
  
Maybe it's Catra's awful luck, or maybe Adora feels the sad pair of mismatched eyes on her, because she happens to turn and look down the aisle. Her eyes widen when they meet Catra's.  
  
"Catra! What the hell happened to you?!"   
  
Adora sprints over.  
  
And for the third time that night, there's a pair of strong hands on Catra's shoulders. This time, she's too tired to fight it.   
  
Adora tugs at Catra's hoodie. Reluctantly, Catra lets her take it off. The white t-shirt she has on beneath it is stained red around the collar and the side.  
  
The world is completely silent. All Catra hears is the faint buzzing from the neon 'Happy Mart' sign over the cash register, Adora's silent sniffles, and her own shaky breath. She doesn't even notice Adora's friends standing behind her, staring at Catra with indiscernible expressions on their faces, until Adora tells them to wait for her outside.  
  
"Can we use the staff washroom?" she asks the clerk.   
  
Catra doesn't him respond, but he must've nodded, because Adora drags her by the arm to the back of the store. She locks them in the single-room washroom, and turns the tap on.  
  
"Catra, tell me," pleads Adora. "Who did this?"  
  
"What a complicated question," muses Catra, half to herself. There's a lot of answers to that question, and none of them are entirely correct.  
  
"Please Catra, this isn't the time to joke around!" Adora exclaims. She sniffles again, and Catra finally notices that she's crying.   
  
Oh. She instantly feels awful. She doesn't want to be the reason Adora cries. "Uh, I'm fine, Adora, seriously, it's not as bad as it looks. You don't have to worry--"  
  
"I'm always worried," she says. She whispers it, like it's some sort of secret or heavy truth. Catra looks down. She feels like a disappointment. Adora reaches for Catra's hands and leads her to the sink. Gently, she washes the blood off her swollen knuckles. Adora's soft voice echoes in Catra's head like some kind of trance, or drug, and suddenly Catra starts to cry too. "No, don't. Does it hurt?"  
  
"More than you can imagine," admits Catra.   
  
And before she knows it, Adora's arms are around her, and Catra's face is nestled in her golden hair, and they're hugging tight.  
  
The sink keeps running, but the world stops. She buries herself in Adora, and she doesn't want to let go. But she does, because Catra also doesn't want to stain Adora's pale pink tank top. When she pulls back, she realizes it's too late, but Adora doesn't even seem to notice.   
  
She quickly runs out of the bathroom. Catra takes the moment to look at herself in the mirror. Her eye is black, her lip is bloody, and her right cheek is swollen and bruised. Dried blood cakes her temples and her forehead.  
  
Catra washes it off her face. When she's done, her skin is pink and raw, but it looks better. There aren't really any open gashes on her face.   
  
Her hands are a different story.  
  
Adora comes back with first-aid supplies. She must've just bought them. She uses some kind of tape to bandage up Catra's knuckles, before gesturing at her shirt.  
  
"Can I...?"  
  
Catra nods  
  
Adora takes Catra's white tee off gently. She winces when she sees Catra's body. Catra figures it's best not to look. Adora goes to work slowly, but thoroughly. She dampens a towel and runs it along Catra's shoulder, her rib cage, her back... then she rubs in something that stings a lot, and then she bandages it up. Twice over, for some reason.  
  
Adora hands Catra back her tee.   
  
"We may as well flush it down the toilet," jokes Catra. "There's no getting those stains out."  
  
Adora smiles. She offers Catra the red jacket tied around her waist. Catra wants to refuse, but it feels impolite. She takes it.   
  
They walk out the Happy Mart. Catra feels a lot better. Still sore, but better. She drops her yellow hoodie off at the laundromat next door. A Mercedes Benz is parked outside. Adora's friends, probably.  
  
"Do you want a ride back to the Horde?" asks Adora. "I'm sure Bow wouldn't mind."  
  
Catra sighs. Outside, in the dead of night, Catra can't help but return to the real world. "Seriously, Adora, what are you doing back here?"  
  
"I promised I'd come back. I miss everyone. The Happy Mart. The end of summer fireworks." She hesitates. "You. A lot."  
  
"It's the Last Summer, Adora," mumbles Catra. "We talked about this for ages. We were gonna blow the world up."  
  
"Yeah? And I'm here."  
  
"It's different now."  
  
Adora takes a step towards her. "It doesn't feel different."  
  
She's painfully right about that. "But it is. I've, uh, got a new roommate."  
  
Adora blinks. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
The Mercedes honks impatiently.   
  
"You're coming with us, right? Please, let me drive you."  
  
Catra shakes her head. "No, I'm okay. But, uh, thanks, Adora."  
  
"Catra, I don't know what to do anymore." Her hands tremble. She looks up to meet Catra's gaze, and the streetlight illuminates Adora's face in an unfairly beautiful way. "I'm so confused."  
  
"Me too."  
  
Another honk.  
  
"Can I call you?" asks Adora.  
  
Catra pauses. "Okay."  
  
Adora nods. She turns around, and jogs towards the car. Again, she doesn't say goodbye, and again, Catra watches her leave. But this time, it doesn't feel like the end of something.  
  
It feels like a beginning.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> believe it or not this chapter is based on a true event! hope you all enjoy.  
> (also damn, that finale).

Clumsy and swollen, Catra's heart batters against her bruised ribs harshly. She tries to swallow the sob she feels clawing its way up her throat. She doesn't even know why she's upset.   
  
When Catra finally makes it to the Horde, her head hurts worse than it ever has. She doesn't feel drunk anymore, but her knees are wobbly and a hundred half-baked thoughts bounce around her head.   
  
She decides against using the front door. She doesn't want to run into anyone. Not tonight.  
  
Catra sneaks towards the back of the building. Dizzy, sore, and exhausted, she uses the last of her strength to haul herself over the brick wall. She slides the window open, and fumbles into her bedroom as gracefully as she can.  
  
Entrapta sits cross-legged in her bed, reading a book the size of an encyclopedia in the soft lamp light. Of course she's still awake.   
  
She glances up when Catra comes in. "Enjoying the upgrade I made to the window?"   
  
"It's proven to be pretty useful," admits Catra, as she tosses Adora's red jacket in her closet. She had crumpled it beneath her arm and carried it the whole walk home. Despite the night being uncharacteristically frigid, something in Catra wouldn't let her put it on.   
  
"How have you been... since the morning?" asks Entrapta slowly. She puts her book down and gives Catra her full attention.   
  
Catra crawls into her own bed. Even from across the dimly lit room, she knows Entrapta can see the bruises on her face. "I've had better days."  
  
"You didn't fight anyone here, right?" asks Entrapta carefully. She remembers how angry Catra was at everyone this morning. Lonnie, Scorpia...  
  
"No," says Catra. "Wait, yes. A little? I don't know." She groans and throws her phone on her nightstand. The day has lasted long enough. "I'm going to bed."  
  
"Is it okay if I keep the light on? I'm just going to stay up a little longer."   
  
Catra's already dead-asleep by the time Entrapta asks.

* * *

In the morning, everything that happened the night before is a blur. All she remembers is the yelling, the punching, and the feeling of Adora's jacket crumpled beneath her arm.   
  
Catra rolls out of bed and into the kitchen, searching for something she can down quickly. She doesn't want to be here when anyone wakes up.  
  
There's a box of granola bars by the fridge. Catra shoves two in her pocket. She runs back to her room to grab a pack of cigarettes, when she notices her phone sitting on Entrapta's nightstand.  
  
No crack.  
  
Something warm floods over Catra. Entrapta stayed up all night and fixed her phone for her. There's a twinge of guilt when Catra remembers how profusely she hated Entrapta just two days befoere. She makes a mental note to thank her roommate as soon as she wakes up.   
  
Quietly, Catra sneaks back out into the hall and through the kitchen. She tries to slink past Weaver's office, but a deliberate grunt lets her know she's caught.   
  
"Catra," she says, her voice laced with its usual false friendliness. "You're going to leave without saying good morning?"  
  
"That was the plan," grumbles Catra.  
  
"Please, come in."  
  
Catra's eyes dart to the door. It would be so quick, so easy, to ignore Weaver and run outside. For a moment, she envisions what her life would be like. She would run as far as she could, until the past seventeen years of her life become a distant memory. She would go away someplace where Weaver couldn't touch her, her friends couldn't lie to her, and Adora couldn't randomly pop back into her life and turn her world around.  
  
Briefly, she remembers fantasizing about running away with Adora. It was something they talked about a lot. Late at night, when the rest of the world was asleep, they stared at their bolted bedroom window and dreamed of going somewhere they wouldn't feel so trapped.   
  
They imagined their last summer at the Horde, before they'd aged out the program. How they'd set the town aflame with a thousand fireworks at Bullet Creek. How they'd take bus after bus, train after train, until they didn't know where they were anymore. Then they'd make themselves a place in the world somewhere, anywhere. As long as they were out of the Horde.  
  
Catra never imagined Adora would leave without her.  
  
But it was clear to everyone that Adora didn't belong in the slums. She was too beautiful, too talented, to live in the mud and the shade of the East side. It was like stealing a star from the sky and stuffing it under a bed. Was it selfish of Catra to want to keep Adora all to herself?  
  
Catra glances at the door again. Maybe the real fantasy wasn't getting out of the Horde. It was getting out together.   
  
She enters Weaver's office.  
  
"Yeah?" she asks impatiently.  
  
Weaver's lips are pressed together in a tight line. Her steely eyes roam Catra's face. "It looks like you had a rather bad fall last night." Before Catra can reply, Weaver suddenly shoots to her feet. "Show me your hands. Now."  
  
As slowly as a man walks to the gallows, Catra awkwardly sticks her arms out towards Weaver.   
  
She grabs her by the wrists and pulls her forward. "Do you think fist fighting is acceptable behaviour?"  
  
Catra doesn't say anything.  
  
Weaver's grip on Catra's wrists tighten. She raises her voice. "When are you going to grow up, Catra? How are you going to make it in the real world if you keep acting like this? You're not fifteen anymore, if the other girl chooses to press charges--"  
  
"She hit me first!" yells Catra, even though she doesn't actually remember.  
  
"And the broken light in your bedroom? And the pack of cigarettes in your nightstand? And don't think I haven't noticed you sneaking out through your bedroom window."  
  
Catra yanks her bruised hands out of Weaver's grasp. She turns around to leave, and finds herself face-to-face with Kyle and Rogelio. Their room shares a wall with Weaver's office. The commotion must have woken them up. She averts their gaze.  
  
"Catra!" barks Weaver. "You're showcasing aggressive, irrational, and violent behaviour. I've warned you several times. There are homes for problematic youths--"  
  
"I don't care," mumbles Catra.  
  
"Kyle, you said she struck Scorpia?"  
  
Catra's eyes widen.   
  
Kyle gulps. "Look, I really don't want to be dragged into this."  
  
Weaver glares at the boy. "Last night, you told me everything that happened. Don't you remember? She hit another girl at the home. Isn't that true?"  
  
"It really was more complicated than that," tries Kyle, but he breaks under Weaver's stare. "...Yeah. She did."  
  
Slack-jawed, Catra whips around to face her friends. Rogelio doesn't say anything to defend her.   
  
"Your caseworker is coming in tomorrow to analyze the situation," continues Weaver, "but I don't see it going very well. You're a danger to the people around you, Catra. You hurt them. And no matter how much I've tried to help you, you don't help yourself. You have to be better."  
  
It feels like someone poured acid down Catra's lungs. She can't speak. She can't breathe. But the door is right there, and knees as weak as they are, Catra can still run.  
  
So she does. Through the door, up the hill, past Drug Alley, and as far as she can go until her legs give out.

* * *

Catra finds herself in the industrial part of the East side. She sits on the curb outside an automotive factory, and buries her face in her hands.   
  
Weaver's bluffed before, she thinks. Maybe she isn't getting kicked out.  
  
Yet some part of her hopes Weaver's telling the truth. Catra hopes that, for once in her life, she's finally getting what she deserves. Besides, there's nothing left for her at the Horde. She has no one.  
  
Maybe Entrapta.   
  
She's been... convenient. Good, even.  
  
Catra sighs. She looks up at the clear blue sky and wonders how such a shitty day could be so beautiful. The sun's warm glow is energizing. Catra picks a rock off the ground and throws it across the street.  
  
At first, it's just for fun. It's a good way to let off steam. While the roads around here are barren, a car drives by every once in a while. How exciting. Catra challenges herself to hit one.   
  
It takes a couple tries. Moving targets are much harder to aim for than stationary ones. But finally, when an unfortunate 2003 Honda Civic drives by, Catra manages to hit her right in the back window.  
  
She doesn't expect it to shatter. Honestly, she didn't even hit it that hard.   
  
Shards of glass shoot out like shrapnel. Catra shields her face. Angry honks scream into the quiet morning air. The car speeds off, its trashy custom "SWEET16" license plate disappearing in the horizon. Catra decides to stop throwing rocks. She figures it's not the wisest idea.   
  
The concrete feels hot beneath her. Catra shuffles around to get comfortable. It can't be more than a few minutes later when she hears sirens in the distance.   
  
They get louder.  
  
Catra bolts. She looks around. The street is too open. There's no one else in sight. As soon as they turn onto it, Catra's fucked.   
  
There's a tall fence to her left that leads to a construction site. It's taller than anything Catra's ever climbed, at least fifteen feet. There's also a No Trepassing sign nailed on. She doesn't have the time to think about it. Catra leaps onto the chain-link. She claws desperately at the fence, scrambling over it as quickly as she can. She's barely over the top when the two police cars turn down the street.  
  
They pull over. One steps out of the car and hollers to Catra, "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to come down."  
  
Catra's heart pounds in her ears. How the hell is she going to talk her way out of this one? She resorts to her trademark, nonchalant attitude, and flashes the officers a cheeky smile. "Would you believe I work here?"  
  
At that, one of the cruisers zoom down the street. Probably to trap her on the other side. The officer runs towards the fence, ready to chase after her.   
  
Catra thinks quickly. She grabs the pack of cigarettes from her pocket and throws them at his head. It gives her the half-second she needs to slide down the fence. The sharp metal scrapes up her hands and arm. She doesn't stop.  
  
Catra sprints through the construction site. She weaves past piles of rubble, heavy machinery, and bins full of interlock. Her shoes kick up dust and gravel in her face, rendering her vision blurry.   
  
Fortunately, there are no workers on the site. Catra reaches the other side. She looks around. She doesn't see the officer following her. He probably never made it over the fence. She can still hear the sirens. It sounds like they called for backup.  
  
Catra's hands sting, but she needs to be fast. The last thing she wants is the cops trapping her in the worksite. She needs to get back into town. Climbing the fence again is difficult, but fear and adrenaline help haul her over.   
  
She scuffles down carefully, then runs towards the first set of buildings she can find. Catra squeezes through an alley between a warehouse and a garden centre. It's dark and shady. She gives it just over ten minutes until they find her. She just doesn't know this part of town well enough to hide.  
  
Suddenly, her phone rings.   
  
Catra thumbs at it frantically, trying to decline the call. She assumes it's Kyle or Lonnie or Scorpia. But then the unsaved number catches her eye.   
  
For an instant, Catra is back at the plaza with Adora's jacket tucked under her arm, and Adora's lips are trembling in the streetlight as she asks Catra to call her. Because she doesn't know if she'll say yes. Because they don't know how to act around each other anymore.  
  
Some part of Catra knows that, if she doesn't answer, Adora will never call her again. Catra doesn't have the time to convince herself that's what she wants.   
  
"Hello?" she whispers into her phone.  
  
"Catra! Hey," replies Adora. She's breathless, as though she didn't actually expect Catra to pick up. "How are you?"  
  
"Listen, Adora," says Catra hurriedly. She keeps her voice low. "Now really isn't the greatest time. Can I call you back?"  
  
"Are you okay?!" The concern in Adora's voice is so sincere, it hurts Catra to hear it. "Are those sirens? Catra, where are you?"  
  
"Donald Parkway. Uh, the garden centre."  
  
"I'm on my way. _Don't move._ " Even through the phone, Catra can see the look in Adora's eyes. Strong. Determined. Irrefutable. No point in arguing.  
  
"If you can't get here in ten minutes, don't bother coming."  
  
Catra hears a click when Adora hangs up. Heart racing, she leans her head against the wall and tries to catch her breath.

* * *

When the Mercedes Benz rolls in behind the plaza, Catra thinks it's the police. When she pokes her head out the alley, she can see their cruisers posted down the street, sirens blaring. She spots a pair of officers investigate the set of buildings next to hers.  
  
She gulps. She's next.  
  
But then her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she realizes the car that pulled in is Adora's.   
  
Catra runs out. The back door opens for her. She leaps in, shuts the door as quickly as she can, and the Benz races down the street.  
  
Adora sits in the back with Catra, while two of her friends drive. She notices the blood caking her palms. "What the hell happened, Catra?"  
  
Catra doesn't say anything. She looks through the windows frantically to ensure they're not being chased. One of the parked cruisers begin to follow them. "Fuck," she mumbles. "It was too close. They saw."  
  
The driver turns to look at Adora. "He's signaling we pull over."  
  
"We can't!" exclaims Adora. "Just keep driving. Pretend you don't see him."  
  
"Adora--"  
  
"Just keep going, Bow!"   
  
There's a tension in the car. Nobody dares say a thing. The girl in the passenger seat keeps glaring at Catra.   
  
"Okay," begins Catra. "Turn onto Redwood Drive. It'll be your next left. There's a sharp turn. I'll take that moment to hop out."  
  
"She's joking, right?" asks the girl.  
  
Adora glares at her. "No, Glimmer. She's not. Bow, you got that?"  
  
"I can not believe this is what your life was like, Adora!" exclaims Bow. "This is insane."  
  
"Listen, Joe--" says Catra.  
  
"Bow."  
  
"Joe, they didn't see me get in. They probably just want to ask you if you saw anything," explains Catra. "Once I get out, drive further down the street then pull over. Then lie your ass off, alright?"  
  
"You're trouble," mumbles Glimmer. She shakes her head, panicking slightly. "I can't do police. Oh no. My mom's going to kill me. She's trouble, Adora, she's trouble."  
  
Redwood Drive gets closer. Catra doesn't expect Bow to follow through with her last-minute plan, but then the car starts to speed up. Catra looks behind her. She sees the distance between the Benz and the cop cruiser grow considerably.   
  
Perfect!  
  
Then Bow drifts sharply into Redwood. Catra opens her door and jumps out onto the pavement. She tucks and rolls, and it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as she expected it to. She fumbles to her feet and ducks behind a building.   
  
Catra presses against the stone wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. Two seconds later, the cop cruiser soars down the street. It stops a block away from her. An officer gets out to question Bow.  
  
Panting, Catra finally feels like she can relax. As soon as the officer leaves, Catra's officially gotten away.  
  
"You're an idiot!" hisses Adora.  
  
Startled, Catra turns around. Adora's ducked down behind her. "W-What are you doing here?"  
  
"I jumped out after you."  
  
Catra facepalms. "Why the hell would you do that?!"  
  
"I don't know!" exclaims Adora. "I just kind of did!" She pauses. "Do you think Bow and Glimmer will be alright?"  
  
"Probably," whispers Catra. "Don't talk. Shh."  
  
"But technically Bow was speeding," refutes Adora.  
  
"The cop's right there. Please, just don't say anything." Catra is suddenly aware of how close she is to Adora. She's pressed against her and the wall. Their faces are millimetres apart. Catra hopes the shade conceals the redness she feels rising to her cheeks.  
  
If Adora notices their proximity, she doesn't show it. She continues to ramble like she always does when she's nervous. "Catra, if they get in trouble--"  
  
Catra barely has to move to close the distance between them. She doesn't think about it. She just does it. She mashes her lips against Adora's, rough and desperate. Whatever it takes to get her to stop talking. But then Catra keeps kissing her, because suddenly she can't feel the scrapes on her palms, the cuts on her knuckles, the bruises on her side. And Adora kisses back, just as hungrily, with the fiery heat of the summer sun behind her. They finally set off those thousand fireworks they dreamed of lighting.   
  
The world disappears around Catra. All she knows are her hands in Adora's hair, Adora's hands on her hips, and their lips pressed firmly together. Like skittles, and cigarettes, and strawberry slushies, Catra finds herself addicted to Adora.  
  
Then they hear a car pass by them. Catra pulls away and peeks around the corner. The cop cruiser is gone.  
  
She's safe.  
  
She turns back towards Adora, who's panting. Eyes wide, face flushed, Adora stares at Catra.   
  
Then she yells, "You can't keep doing this!"  
  
"Doing what?"   
  
"This!" exclaims Adora. "You keep getting yourself in trouble! I'm not always going to be here to help you."  
  
Catra falters. "...You're not?"  
  
"N-No, that's not what I meant!" stammers Adora. "But you keep stirring shit and you don't need to. Not anymore. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."   
  
Catra raises an eyebrow. "So you think all this is about you? You think I'm trying to get your attention?"  
  
Adora doesn't say anything.   
  
"Of course," scoffs Catra. "Of fucking course. News flash, Princess, the world doesn't revolve around you."  
  
"Yeah, but if I'm going to keep getting dragged into these messes, this involves me."  
  
"I never asked you to come!" spits Catra. "You didn't have to come!"  
  
"Of course I had to!" yells Adora. The outburst even surprises her. She takes a second to calm down. "Catra, I just don't want you to pick the wrong fight. I care about you. I don't want you getting hurt."  
  
"You hurt me!" screams Catra. She balls her fists. "You fucking hurt me all the time, Adora! If you cared about me, you would've left me the hell alone."  
  
Adora takes a gentle step towards Catra.   
  
"You're the reason I have nothing left!" Catra winces when the end of her sentence turns to a sob. She refuses to cry in front of Adora. Not again.   
  
When Adora takes another step forward, Catra shoves her back. She stumbles. Suddenly, the soft expression on Adora's face hardens. She straightens her back. "You just hit me."  
  
"Yeah," breathes Catra. "And? Can't take it, Princess?"  
  
Suddenly, Catra is slammed against the wall. Adora towers over her, pinning her against the ragged stone. "I'm not the reason you have nothing, Catra. You push people away. All the time. You fuck with people, too." Adora leans in. "You hurt them too."  
  
Then, in a blink, Adora has stepped back again. She dusts off her pants, then strolls out of the alley. Catra watches as she climbs into Bow's car and drives away.   
  
Catra can't help the tears from streaming down her cheeks, but she does her best to wipe them away.  
  
It's a long walk back, and home feels further than ever.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting closer to the end (still got a fair bit to go tho, don't worry). i've also got some cool ideas for other stories but i acc wanna like polish those before i post them. get hyped y'all, i'm only gettin started ;)  
> alsooo dw im finishing this story b4 i get sidetracked w anything else. hope y'all like this chap.

One street becomes another, then another, then another.   
  
Catra begrudgingly accepts that she doesn't know where she's going. Besides, she's still sore from her fight with Octavia. And sliding down the fence to break into the construction site. And diving out of Bow's car to outrun the cops.

Hmm. Catra _does_ find herself in a lot of trouble.  
  
She continues down the sidewalk until she finds a bus stop. Thoroughly exhausted, Catra sits on the bench. She looks down at her hands. The scrapes are shallow, not even worth bandaging, but they burn.   
  
Catra closes her eyes. Suddenly, she's running her hands through Adora's hair again, and they're pressed together tight. Catra tries to shake the memory out of her head. She isn't even sure it really happened.  
  
A bus rolls in.   
  
Catra looks up. She remembers first seeing Adora again through the tinted bus window, and not quite believing her eyes. Catra wishes Adora had left it at that; a bittersweet glimpse back in time. If only Adora hadn't tried so hard to claw her way back into her life. If only she'd left and stayed gone. Maybe then, Catra could at least _pretend_ she wasn't so miserable.  
  
The doors to the bus slide open. Catra has no idea where it's going.  
  
She hops on.

* * *

Part of Catra hoped the bus was leaving town. Instead, it takes her to the terminal at Main street.  
  
Call it destiny. Or shitty luck.  
  
Catra thanks the bus driver and unboards. She knows the way back to the Horde from here. She reaches into her pocket for a cigarette, before remembering she threw her pack at one of the officers.   
  
Why didn't she throw one of the granola bars?  
  
Catra unwraps one and bites into it. Her throat is dry. It's hard to swallow. The air around her is sick and stuffy, and the sun beats down on her with a blistering heat. She's hot, tired, sore, and overwhelmed.   
  
Physically and emotionally, Catra is the lowest she's ever been.  
  
She blames Adora. If Adora hadn't come back, if she hadn't manipulated Catra's friends into going behind her back, if she hadn't been so selfish, then Catra wouldn't be here. She wouldn't be walking down Main street alone, reflecting on everything that's happened the past few days and trying to make sense of it.  
  
Catra moves quickly. She fixes on the sidewalk to keep the sun's blinding rays out of her eyes.   
  
It doesn't work. 

* * *

When Catra cuts through Drug Alley on her way back to the Horde, she doesn't expect to see anyone there. Yet, when she steps into the cool shade, she notices somebody sitting on the dumpster.

"Oh." Scorpia turns to look at her. She gives her a sad smile. "Hey, Wildcat."  
  
Catra remembers the last time her and Scorpia bumped into each other at Drug Alley. It feels like a thousand years ago. Catra doesn't say anything as she walks past her. She half-expects Scorpia to try to stop her, to apologize, to say something, but she doesn't.   
  
She lets Catra walk away.  
  
And Catra almost does, until she catches a trace of stale tobacco in the air. She turns around. The eye-watering gray mist wafts past her.   
  
"You're smoking?"  
  
Scorpia nods. She reaches for her pack of Blues and holds it out to Catra. An invitation.   
  
And as much as Catra wants to keep walking away, it's been too rough of a morning for her to reasonably turn down a smoke. Reluctantly, she takes the pack from Scorpia's hand. She can tell from the discontinued packaging that Scorpia's had it for a while. No surprise. Catra knows she hardly smokes.  
  
Catra pulls the lighter out of her pocket and ignites the end of her cigarette. She inhales deeply, and maybe it's the Blues' strange minty taste, but for once she doesn't feel any better than she did before.  
  
"Uh, can you throw the pack back?"  
  
Catra realizes she's still holding it. "Oh, right. Sorry."  
  
Scorpia fumbles with it when Catra tosses it back. She pulls out another cigarette with the awkwardness of someone who hasn't done it much.  
  
Before she can stop herself, Catra blurts out, "Maybe you shouldn't have another. It's just, uh, not the greatest habit to form."  
  
Scorpia blinks. She's taken back momentarily, but soon composes herself and slides the cigarette back with the rest of them. "Yeah, I guess not."  
  
Catra has to look away. Scorpia's gaze is heavy with unsaid words, and Catra isn't sure she wants to hear them.   
  
She takes a puff from her cigarette, and watches the mist drift through the alley. That's the interesting thing about smoke. It disappears into the sky quickly, but the smell permeates every little thing. It latches onto every pore, every fibre, and every crack in the wall, as though it's terrified to be blown away in the breeze.   
  
Long after the flames fizzle away into ashes, some part hangs on. Desperate and resolute.   
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Catra shrugs. "I mean, you can do whatever you want, but--"  
  
"Not about the smoking," clarifies Scorpia. "About everything else."  
  
That's the first time anyone has apologized to Catra since everything blew up. Catra thought it'd make her feel different. It doesn't.   
  
"And, you know, Kyle was just worried." Scorpia looks down. "You didn't come home until really late. We didn't know if you'd come home at all."  
  
Catra snaps. "So you thought the best thing to do was tell Weaver everything?"  
  
"We were worried," says Scorpia. "We just wanted to look out for you--"  
  
"I can look out for myself! I always have!" exclaims Catra. She runs a hand through her hair, suddenly tired again. Why is everything so draining?  
  
She doesn't expect Scorpia to yell back. "No, you can't! Catra, when will you fucking understand? You've been a ticking time bomb ever since Adora left!"  
  
The sudden outburst stuns Catra into silence. She can count on one hand how many times Scorpia's raised her voice, and neither time was ever at her. All she can offer is a weak, "Well, that's not my fault."  
  
"It never is, is it?" Scorpia sighs. "For the past year, you've made everyone around you miserable. You've thrown your life away. Smoking, failing classes, fighting people, disappearing. What are you going to do when you leave the Horde next year?"  
  
Catra doesn't answer.  
  
"Blame everyone all you want, but _you_ ruined your _own_ life. And for what? For Adora?"   
  
Scorpia hops off the dumpster.   
  
"It isn't worth it, Wildcat."  
  
Catra is frozen in place as Scorpia walks out Drug Alley. She hopelessly tries to find something to say, a sarcastic comment, a rebuttal, but nothing comes.   
  
Even after Scorpia is long gone, and the sun's stretched the last of its amber limbs over the rooftops, Catra is speechless.   
  
Head spinning, she drags her feet the whole way back home.

* * *

Catra doesn't bother sneaking in through the window.  
  
She kicks her shoes off at the front door and tries to sneak away to her room as discreetly as possible. Unfortunately, her timing is as awful as her luck, because she makes it back to the Horde right at dinner.  
  
Weaver stands at the head of the table. "Are you going to come join us, Catra?"  
  
Catra feels everyone's eyes on her. She mumbles something about not being hungry, and tries to push past Weaver.  
  
"Either we all eat together, or no one eats at all."  
  
Catra doesn't want to give everyone else another reason to hate her. Begrudgingly, she takes her seat.   
  
It's Lonnie's night to cook, so the food isn't very appetizing. The pasta has a weird gray tint to it and the salad dressing smells like rubbing alcohol. Catra eats with her head down. The sound of everyone's forks clanging against their plates is almost deafening. No one says a word.   
  
Catra washes down her food with a tall glass of water. She turns to Weaver. "I'm done. Can I go?"  
  
"You're excused."  
  
She leaves her dishes on the counter and heads to her room.   
  
The window is still open from when she snuck in last night. A cool breeze flows into the room. It nips at her nose. She changes into warmer clothes, then plugs her phone in. Part of Catra wants to go to bed, despite it still being early. She just wants the day to end. Another part of her wants to make the most of what might be her last day at the Horde.  
  
But that's hard to do when the best part of the Horde is her friends, and she doesn't know if she even has friends anymore.  
  
Catra eyes her nightstand. She remembers Weaver ripping into her for the pack of cigarettes she'd hidden inside. Well, at least she'd thought they were hidden. Of course Weaver goes through her stuff.  
  
With nothing to lose, Catra pulls open the drawer and grabs her Camels. She climbs onto her dresser and leaps at the window. She manages to grab onto the edge. Her bruised hands scream at the effort of climbing up onto the windowsill. Somehow, Catra manages.  
  
She lights up her cigarette, drawing carefully and blowing the smoke out the window.   
  
Once again, she imagines what it would be like to leave. To simply grab her things, crawl out of her window, and run away into the night. There's no reason not to. Her social worker is coming to give her the boot tomorrow, anyways.  
  
Then the door opens gently, and Entrapta walks in. She smiles. "Hey."  
  
"Hi." Catra turns to face her. She suddenly feels bad for smoking inside. "I can, uh, put it out. If you want."  
  
Entrapta doesn't even seem to notice. She sits on her bed, cross-legged, and stares at Catra. Her once intense gaze is softened... almost sad. "Are you actually leaving?"  
  
The draft from the window sends a chill down Catra's spine. "That's not up to me."  
  
"But are you?"  
  
"I guess." Catra takes a quick drag from her cigarette. She turns to blow the smoke outside. Her eyes fix on a light in the sky. She tries to discern whether it's a star or a satellite.  
  
"We can all talk to Weaver, you know," suggests Entrapta. "Explain the misunderstanding at Octavia's party. Start a rebellion."  
  
Catra snorts. "A rebellion?"  
  
"Whatever it takes!" insists Entrapta. She sighs. "Please. I don't want you to go. For me, stay."  
  
Suddenly, the night sky liquefies, leaving only airplanes and blinking lights shining against a blank canvas. Different shades of white swirl together in a whirlwind so bright, Catra has to close her eyes.   
  
When she opens them, Entrapta's gone. On her bed, legs sprawled out, sits Adora.  
  
Her blue eyes twinkle. She stares at Catra up on the ledge. She grimaces. For a moment, she sees herself too. Young and heartbroken, screaming and pleading because she doesn't know what else to do. Their last argument at the Horde echoes in Catra's mind, like a cry down an endless chasm. Catra winces as she relives it. All the stupid words she had thrown around.  
  
 _And for what? It isn't worth it, Wildcat._  
  
Feeling terrible, Catra rubs her eyes. When she opens them again, Adora's gone.   
  
"Catra?" asks Entrapta. "Are you getting altitude sickness up there?"  
  
Catra laughs. It sounds distant, as though it didn't come from her. She's finally accepted it. "Entrapta, even if you clear up the thing about Octavia's party, there's a hundred other reasons to kick me out."  
  
"Well, we can--"  
  
"And I'm okay with it, Entrapta." Catra tosses her cigarette out the window. "It was bound to happen. I don't belong here. Not anymore." 

She understands now. Not completely, but better. And even though her and Adora's circumstances were completely different, she realizes Adora probably didn't have much of a choice either. She spent her whole life staring through a bolted window, wishing upon stars, or satellites, or whatever else was in the sky. Then, someone cracked that window open for her and promised her the chance to make those wishes come true.  
  
Catra blows another cloud of smoke out of the window.   
  
She suppresses the urge to run after it.

* * *

The morning smells like butter and pancakes. There's a John Denver song blasting on the stereo. Catra can make out some light laughter coming from the kitchen. She takes a few minutes to change out of her pyjamas, then goes to join everyone.  
  
As soon as she arrives, everyone goes deathly quiet.  
  
"This really doesn't need to be so awkward, guys," says Catra nonchalantly. "You're never seeing me again after today."   
  
She rips off a piece of pancake from the stack in the middle. She stuffs it in her mouth.  
  
"Mmm. Fluffy."  
  
Lonnie clears her throat and gestures around the table. Catra looks at her quizzically. She doesn't understand what Lonnie's trying to say.   
  
Frustrated, Lonnie rolls her eyes. She points at Kyle's usual seat. It's empty. "Oh. Are Kyle and Rogelio still sleeping in?"  
  
And that's when she notices the shouting. It's coming from Weaver's office. Catra turns to face the girls. Scorpia and Entrapta are pale-faced and horrified.  
  
"What the fuck happened?" Catra unplugs the stereo so she can hear what's going on.  
  
Lonnie shakes her head. "Weaver just stormed in here. She grabbed Kyle by the collar of his t-shirt and dragged him to her office. We think--"  
  
Something shatters.  
  
Catra doesn't hesitate. She races into Weaver's office.  
  
Kyle is crouched down in the corner of the room. He covers his head with his hands. He's shaking. Rogelio stands in front of him protectively, but even he looks terrified. There are shards of glass littered around them.   
  
Weaver leans against her desk. Her 'I woke up like this' mug is missing. She reaches for her stapler.   
  
"Woah, are you about to fucking throw that?" exclaims Catra. Everyone's eyes dart to her.  
  
Weaver glares at her. She growls, "Get out, Catra. This doesn't concern you."  
  
Catra flinches. Weaver's gaze sends chills down her spine. She's frozen in fear. Then the stapler goes hurdling at the wall above Kyle's head, and snaps in two.   
  
"I work so hard for you worthless brats," snarls Weaver. "And to catch you-- in your bed, well I--"  
  
Suddenly, Catra can move again. "Wait, is this because they're gay?"  
  
Weaver twitches. "They violated the Code of Conduct." She grabs a metal holepuncher and turns to the boys. Her eyes narrow. "I've tried so much to help you, but you don't help yourself. You have to be better."  
  
And maybe it's the power of those familiar words, or maybe it's the way Weaver doesn't look like she intends on missing this time, but Catra charges forward with nothing to lose. She tackles Weaver. They both go tumbling over her desk.  
  
Loose papers fly everywhere. Office supplies crash on the hardwood floor. For an instant, Catra is aware of two hands gripping tightly around her neck. Before she can react, Rogelio's already peeled them off.  
  
He drags Catra out of the office by her shirt. Kyle hides behind him. "You really pissed her off this time," he says.   
  
"I was trying to help."  
  
"You don't have to sleep here tonight," argues Rogelio. "She'll kill us, come tomorrow. We're fucked."  
  
Catra looks down.  
  
"But thanks," adds Kyle meekly, "for not just standing around. If you hadn't--"  
  
And suddenly Weaver's leaning against the doorframe. She sways on her feet uneasily. Catra really did a number on her.  
  
Weaver roars, "Assault!" She straightens her back. She's winded, but she tries to hide it. "Your social worker is coming any moment now, and I'm calling the police. You'll never, _never_ see the light of day again."  
  
Fists clenched, Weaver advances towards Catra. Before she can take another step, Scorpia leaps in front of her.   
  
"Move," hisses Weaver, but Scorpia's all muscle. Arms crossed, she stays put.  
  
Everyone else storms in from the kitchen behind her. Lonnie helps Rogelio carry Kyle back to their room. He's still trembling, and it looks like he was cut up a little bit. Entrapta runs at the front door and swings it wide open.  
  
"Get out, Catra!" she cries. Catra runs towards the door. She looks back at Entrapta, who smiles at her softly. "And don't come back."  
  
Catra steps into the blazing summer heat. The door slams shut behind her. She hears it lock. With nowhere to go, and no idea what to do, Catra leaves the chaos of the Horde behind her.   
  
And this time, she really can't turn back.   



	8. Chapter 8

Heat rains down on Catra like the breath of hell.   
  
It's noon, and there's not a single cloud in the sky to protect the town from the sun's brutal rays. The weather is harsh and unforgiving, and Catra can't think of anywhere she can go to escape it.  
  
Sweat beads on her forehead and drips from her chin. Her dark hair is matted and it sticks to her face. Catra does her best to keep it out of her eyes as she walks through the city.  
  
She isn't surprised when, somehow, she winds up at Drug Alley. While the sun's warmth still lingers in the dark shadows, it's much more bearable. Catra tries to lean against the wall, but the red bricks are scalding. She decides to climb onto the the dumpster.   
  
Finally comfortable, Catra finds herself aching for a cigarette. It's hard to ignore the glaring emptiness she feels in her back pocket. Hell, it's hard to ignore the emptiness she feels inside her, clawing at her chest and gnawing at her stomach.   
  
Catra watches her legs dangle beneath her. She has to blink away the flashes of memories that try to creep in when she looks around the alley.   
  
To everyone else, Drug Alley is just another crummy alleyway in another crummy town. Nobody who walks past it would ever pay it any attention. But to Catra, it's special, and for no other reason than the fact that she decided she wanted it to be. She and Adora and the rest of the Horde kids randomly started hanging out there, until it became a place full of laughter and smoke and wasted afternoons. A place worth naming.   
  
With a twinge of melancholy, Catra realizes that it's probably the only thing that's ever been completely hers. She's had everything else taken away from her: her bed, her friends, her cigarettes. But no one will ever be able to touch Drug Alley, because it exists for her only.   
  
Catra considers spending the night atop the dumpster. It won't be too cold, she'd probably be fine. And even though the neighbourhood isn't the safest, she can fend for herself if she has to.   
  
But Catra has little doubt that Weaver went through with her threat and called the police. They're probably looking for her right now, and it won't take long for them to find her here. Then they'll either take her to her social worker and she'll spend her senior year bouncing from group home to group home, or they'll take her straight to the police station and she'll be charged for whatever Weaver claims she did.   
  
Catra considers going to the police herself and reporting Weaver. She's thought about it before, but she can't see it ending well. Weaver would find a way to manipulate Catra's words and get herself out of trouble. It wouldn't be hard. Nobody ever believes foster kids. And if, by chance, Weaver got convicted, Catra would be thrown back in the system.  
  
She groans and buries her face in her hands. She figures she'll wait for it to get a bit cooler, then look for somewhere else to stay. What else can she do?  
  
When Catra finally looks up, the alley feels tighter than ever. The chalky red walls are closing in, and Catra has never felt more trapped.

* * *

As the sun dips behind the horizon, moths and mosquitoes and fireflies head for the streetlights. They swarm the town's sidewalks, and Catra has to keep swatting them out of her face.  
  
She's still a little groggy from the nap she'd taken earlier. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but there wasn't much else for her to do. Besides, she doubts she'll get any rest tonight, so stealing a quick powernap wasn't the worst idea.  
  
The first thing Catra wants to get is some water. A pack of cigarettes would be nice too. Unfortunately, the little cash she has is stuffed beneath her pillow at the Horde. Maybe Catra could sneak into her room, grab what she needs, and leaves.  
  
But what if they've already packed up her stuff? What if Weaver and her social worker are waiting there for her? What if after she steps into her cool, air-conditioned bedroom, she isn't able to muster up the courage to leave again?  
  
No, she decides resolutely. She refuses to turn back.  
  
There's one place in town she can grab a few supplies: the Happy Mart. She has a good reputation with the owner, and it wouldn't be the first time he let her take a few things with the promise of paying him back later. Catra begins to take the familiar route to the convenience store.  
  
It doesn't take her long to accidentally swallow a bug. She determines it's wiser to trek on the side of the road, out of the streetlights. Though only a foot away from the curb, she wades in near-complete darkness.   
  
She's suddenly blinded by a pair of bright headlights racing towards her. She shields her eyes with her arm and ducks out of the way. The car zooms past her. Seconds later, a police cruiser follows. It soars down the street, its sirens piercing the nightly silence that blankets the streets.  
  
Catra gulps. She's always felt uneasy around cops.   
  
She walks a little faster.

* * *

It's 11:02 when she finally reaches the plaza.  
  
Catra notices she has a dozen missed calls from Scorpia, and countless unread texts from the rest of the Horde kids. She unlocks her phone to answer them, but it dies before she can even open the first message. She breathes out a long string of curse words as she shoves it back in her pocket. Stupid iPhones.  
  
Catra squints when she enters the Happy Mart. The bright fluorescent lights cause her eyes to water.   
  
She heads towards the drink aisle at the back of the shop. Catra's eyes roam the rows of refrigerators. She skims past cans of pop, energy drinks, and bottles of beer until she finds a shelf of water bottles. The white lights illuminating the fridge flicker when she opens the door and grabs one.   
  
As she makes her way through the aisle and back to the front of the store, she stops outside a door that reads "Employees Only." She's instantly taken back to the night of Octavia's party, when Adora took her to the staff washroom and cleaned her up. She tries not to think about it.  
  
Catra glances up at the register. The cashier is some teenage boy. He's leaning against the counter and surfing his phone. He didn't even notice her come in.  
  
The idea pops into Catra's head immediately. She spares a final look at the clerk to make sure he isn't watching, then ducks through the door behind her.  
  
She's in a short hallway. The walls are stony, and the ground is made of rough gray carpet. At the end of the hall, there's the storage room and the emergency exit. To her left, there's the staff washroom. To her right, there's the locker rooms and the break room.   
  
She pokes her head in the locker room and sees the cashier's backpack hanging off a peg. Nope. She decides to enter the break room instead. It's probably only used by the daytime staff anyways, so no one should catch her if she's out by morning. Catra closes the door as gently as she can, then locks it.   
  
The break room is small. Posters litter the walls, and there's a small microwave by the sink. Most of the space is taken up by a ratty leather couch in the center of the room. Catra expects to sink into it, but it's surpisingly stiff.  
  
Yeah, it's gross and uncomfortable, but it's better than sleeping at a bus stop.  
  
Catra stuffs a pillow beneath her head, kicks her feet up, and lets herself fall asleep.

* * *

The hard part is sneaking out in the morning.  
  
At first, she wants to leave through the door she came in, but she decides it's too risky. There are more people working in the day, and if anyone happens to look over as she slips out...  
  
There has to be a better way. That's when Catra remembers the emergency exit at the end of the hall. She's worried an alarm will be set off when she opens the door, but she takes the chance. She's pleasantly surprised when there isn't.  
  
Catra picks up a small rock off the ground and wedges it between the door to keep it from locking behind her.  
  
It becomes somewhat of a routine. Every night, at 11, she goes around the plaza and slips into the break room through the Happy Mart's emergency exit. Her back even starts to adjust to the lumpy couch, and sleep begins to come easier. It's almost normal.   
  
Finding something to do during the day is the hard part. She has no phone, no money, and no friends. She doesn't smoke much, because she doesn't want to burn through her new pack of cigarettes. It's probably the last one she'll have for a while, since she's dead broke and all, so she wants to savour it. This leaves her with absolutely nothing to do.  
  
The hours drag on slowly. Catra resists the urge to drop by the Horde, grab some supplies, and check in with her friends. For all they know, she skipped town. And maybe she should. But right now, she's got a decent place to stay, and even though it's surely temporary, she can't bring herself to leave. Not yet.  
  
So she spends her time strolling down side streets and back roads. Her mind wanders a lot. She reflects on school, her childhood, and her time at the Horde. She tries to think forward, imagine what her senior year will be like, but looking further than a couple days in the future proves to be a challenge. The uncertainty is scary, so Catra tries to keep her thoughts from straying too far. Only what she can manage.  
  
She also kills time by working out. She goes for runs, does pullups in shady alleyways, and finds heavy things to lift and throw around. She adapts to her new lifestyle quickly.  
  
But one day, as Catra tries to sneak in through the emergency exit as usual, she notices the door is locked. Maybe she forgot to wedge the door that morning. She decides to go in through the front entrance.  
  
The owner of the Happy Mart stands in front of the cash register. The bright lights emblazon the stern expression carved on his face. Arms crossed, he turns to face Catra.   
  
"Hey," she says casually. "How've you been, Mr. Jones?"  
  
He huffs. "Catra..."  
  
She gulps. "So you know?"  
  
"The night staff complained about the break room being locked," he explains. "I checked the cameras, and saw you sneaking back there."  
  
Catra's heart sinks. She tries not to be too upset, because this was bound to happen eventually, but she feels defeated nonetheless. Her ingenius solution to homelessness didn't last as long as she'd hoped it would.   
  
"What happened, Catra? I thought you lived with the others down at that home on Third."  
  
"I left."   
  
"How long ago?"   
  
"It's been about a week."  
  
Mr. Jones scratches the stubble on his chin. He sighs, then sits on the counter. "Have you been getting by alright?"  
  
Catra laughs bitterly. "Take another look at your cameras, then ask me again."  
  
Mr. Jones doesn't say anything for a while. He's a weathered old man, short and fat. He has thin gray hairs dotting his head, and wrinkles beneath his eyes. For a moment, he looks a lot older than he is. Quietly, he says, "I can't let you stay back there."  
  
Catra doesn't ask why. It's fine. As long as he doesn't tell Weaver she was here, she can take the next bus out of town. "It's okay. Uh, just please don't tell anyone you saw me. Sorry for the trouble."  
  
She turns to walk away, feeling no more sorry for herself than she usually does, when he calls out, "Wait!"   
  
Catra raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Do you need a job?"

* * *

Turns out, Catra has shitty customer service skills.   
  
She groans when people opt to pay in cash, forcing her to count out change, and she's snappy to customers that are too cheerful. She also ducks behind the counter each time she hears the doors swing open, as she's nervous her friends are going to come in and see her. After a few miserable shifts as a cashier, Catra gets moved to shipment processing.  
  
Now that? That, she's good at.   
  
Her job consists of off-loading the daily shipment truck and putting the boxes in the storage room. Some are ridiculously heavy, and she has to learn to climb a fifteen foot ladder one-handed to put them on the top shelves. While she spends most of her time in the back, she does occasionally have to step out on the floor and restock the aisles.  
  
Honestly, the work is good for Catra. She doesn't have to talk to anyone, and she can move at her own pace. She's even pretty good at it, because though she's kind of scrawny, fist fights and anger-fueled workouts have ensured that she's never lacked in upper body strength.   
  
As for where to sleep, Mr. Jones explicitly told her she wasn't allowed to spend the night in the break room. But since Catra works there, she has the code to the emergency exit, and she lets herself into the shipment room at night. She sneaks past the cameras, climbs onto the shelves, and falls asleep behind the boxes.   
  
It's kind of like a bunk bed, she tells herself. But she knows she can't continue like this. Living off the expired snacks they throw out each night, sleeping in the stock room, working all day. Eventually, she's going to get caught again. And she's going to need a shower, some real food, and a real place to stay.  
  
Maybe, just maybe, living in the moment isn't the wisest idea. She needs a plan.  
  
Catra decides she'll take her first paycheck, buy a train ticket, and go downtown. If she's going to be broke and homeless, she'd rather do it somewhere that isn't four blocks away from the Horde. Besides, there are shelters in the city. Maybe, just maybe, she can turn this all around.  
  
As she stocks the fridges in the back aisle and tries to work out the kinks in her plan, she hears a pained voice call out her name. "Catra?"  
  
Catra turns around. It's Adora. For a moment, Catra's ashamed that Adora has to see her like this, slaving away at a convenience store, hair unwashed for two weeks, but then she takes in Adora's appearance.   
  
Her golden hair is frizzy and flat against her face. Her eyes are red and dull from lack of sleep, and her normally glossy lips are dry and cracked. Catra's taken aback. You'd think Adora were the homeless one, and Catra was the one whose friends drive her around in a Mercedes.  
  
"Hey, Adora," mumbles Catra, because she doesn't know what else to say. She doesn't know if they're on good terms, or bad terms, or if their relationship will ever be that black and white.   
  
"You fucking--" starts Adora, but her voice breaks. She holds onto a shelf to steady herself. "You fucking _bitch_ , Catra."  
  
Suddenly, Catra's pulled into a tight hug. Adora mumbles incoherently in her ear, and Catra thinks that she's finally gone insane. She untangles herself from the hug, but Adora's firm grip on her waist keeps her from going anywhere.  
  
"I knew I'd run into you here eventually," she says. Even though she looks like a mess, her blue eyes aren't any less captivating. "Lonnie and Scorpia and Bow and Glimmer all told me not to waste my time, that you'd left for good, but I knew you hadn't. I knew I'd find you. I went everywhere. Over and over again..."  
  
Catra blinks. "What happened?"  
  
"You're a _missing person_. Everyone's looking for you." She hesitates, before adding, "I thought you were _dead_."  
  
And because Catra doesn't know how to react to that, and because staring into Adora's eyes is just as addicting and painful as staring into the sun, Catra grumbles bitterly, "So I have to _die_ in order for you to care about me?"   
  
But Adora doesn't even register the insult. Her eyes are too busy roaming Catra's, as though she can't quite believe she's standing in front of her. Adora raises a hand to caress her cheek. She speaks so low, Catra can barely hear it. "I thought that something had happened with Weaver and you'd..."  
  
"Weaver couldn't hurt me if she tried," huffs Catra. She clears her throat and looks away. "I, uh, I fought back. I stood up to her. Like you always told me to or whatever."  
  
And then she feels another hand on her cheek, and she's pulled into a rough kiss. Adora holds onto her so tight, it's as though she's afraid Catra will disappear the moment she lets go. Then she pulls back, hands still on Catra's face, and breathes, "I'm so fucking sorry."  
  
If the kiss didn't make Catra dizzy, then that sure as hell did.  
  
"Don't run," mumbles Adora. She presses her forehead firmly against Catra's, like if she presses hard enough, she can mend the distance between them right there. "Come stay with me. Just for a little, we can fix this together."  
  
For a moment, all Catra can hear is the quiet humming of the refrigerators. She swallows hard.  
  
"You can fill me in on everything that happened in the car," pleads Adora, "but there are so many people looking for you and they all want to take you away and I can't--"  
  
"Fine."  
  
Adora looks at her hopefully.  
  
"But only because I don't have another choice," she growls, hardening. "And don't try to kiss me again. It's just another problem I don't want to have to deal with."   
  
Catra signals something to the cashier, then follows Adora out to her car. While she's grateful for the chance to sleep on an actual bed for the first time in two weeks, no matter how kind Adora is, or how soft her lips are, she'll always be the reason Catra ended up in this situation in the first place.   
  
And Catra doesn't know if she’ll be able to let that go.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been over a month. i'm so sorry. this chap was meant to be super long but i just wasnt happy w it no matter how i wrote it so now im like fck it, let's just split it and get smth out there. juicy stuff next chap tho (which was supposed to be in this chap, but oh well). we'll get some glimmer and some bonding and we'll explore some dynamics, hm? let's just hope i don't die again.

The Mercedes' seats are made of rich leather.   
  
Catra hadn't noticed them before, but now it's all she can focus on. They're shiny and firm and probably more expensive than anything she will ever own in her life. She squirms around in the backseat to get comfortable. They've been sitting in the parking lot for a while.  
  
"Uh, Catra," says Adora. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel.   
  
Catra meets her eyes in the rearview mirror. "What?"  
  
"You're not gonna sit up here?" Adora gestures to the passenger seat. "I feel like an Uber driver."  
  
"An Uber driver with a Benz? You've clearly never used Uber."  
  
Adora huffs. She doesn't say anything as she shifts gears and reverses out of the parking lot. The car's engine is deathly quiet, one of its many luxury features, and it makes the silence between the two of them even more deafening.   
  
Catra tries to distract herself by looking out the window. She watches the only streets she's ever known fade into a colourless blur. The idea of leaving town, even just to go to the other side, has always been nothing but a fantasy. But now it's actually happening, and with _Adora_ of all people.   
  
It's like everything she's ever wished for is coming true, but in the worst way possible.   
  
If there is a God, he must really have it out for her.

* * *

When they drive by the Horde, Catra tears her gaze from the window. She slinks down in her seat, never wanting to see that stupid condo again.  
  
"Hey," breathes Adora softly.  
  
Catra can feel Adora's eyes on her, watching for a reaction. She refuses to look up, instead fidgeting with her seatbelt.  
  
"There's so much more out there, you wouldn't believe it," continues Adora, her voice a gentle murmur. "This town's always felt so big, y'know? Like it could swallow you whole. And the Horde was like-- well, it was everything." She laughs absently. "But Catra, the first thing I noticed when I came back was just how... _small_ and _insignificant_ this place is."  
  
Catra rolls her eyes. "Jeez, I get it. You're a rich kid now. No need to shove it down my throat."  
  
"No, Catra, that's not what I meant." Adora pauses, searching for the right words. "It's just... I don't know, this town doesn't define us as much as we thought it did. There's a whole world out there, all busy and buzzing with excitement and... you just have to see it, I guess. But we can be more than just kids from the Horde. The future's brighter than its shadow."  
  
" _Your_ future, yeah," argues Catra. "But everyone‘s known that since the day you moved in."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Things come easier to you, Adora," sighs Catra. "And I don't know why that's so hard for you to get through your thick skull, but it's true. People look at you and they see Adora. They look at me, and they see troubled foster kid."  
  
"Hey, I worked my ass off to get that scholarship, you know that!" Adora turns around to glare at Catra. "It wasn't just handed to me!"  
  
"I never said you didn't deserve it--"  
  
"But you never stopped making me feel like shit for taking it!" blurts Adora, and suddenly, it's quiet again.   
  
Catra's stomach churns. Why do all their conversations end up like this?   
  
"That's why I stopped answering your calls. I just couldn't take it anymore, Catra. You made me feel selfish, and guilty, and like I was wrong for wanting better than the Horde."  
  
"You wanted better than _me,_ " says Catra, and it sounds a lot more pathetic than she meant it to.   
  
Adora inhales sharply. Catra can see her white-knuckling the wheel. Tension begins to creep into the car. Catra decides to change the topic.  
  
"I'm surprised Joe and Glitter aren't here. Where's the posse?"  
  
"I didn't know you felt like that," whispers Adora. "I didn't-- I wasn't-- I hadn't considered it like that. How could you ever think I wanted to get away from you?"  
  
Catra looks up. She locks eyes with Adora in the mirror, and suddenly she's swimming, no-- _drowning_ \-- in a whirlpool of thoughts and feelings and uncertainty. There's a lump in her throat, and Catra opens her mouth to say something, when she feels the car swerve sharply off the road.  
  
"Shit, sorry," mumbles Adora. She regains control of the steering wheel, then clears her throat audibly. She chuckles awkwardly. "I hope you had your seatbelt on."  
  
Catra snickers. She ignores the way her stomach won't stop turning, and smirks. "Just keep your eyes on the road, Princess." 

* * *

The roads become much smoother once they reach the East side of town. The sidewalks are cleaner, the streetlights are brighter, and the buildings are newer. Catra's too hypnotized by the way the sun beams reflect off the pale blue windows of an office complex to notice how long they've been stuck in traffic.  
  
Adora groans. "Don't worry, we're almost there."  
  
"I'm not in any rush," shrugs Catra. She leans back in her seat easily. "It's not like I'm dying to hang out with your sparkly Best Friend Squad."  
  
Adora whips around to face her, eyes wide. "How did you know we call ourselves that?"  
  
"You're kidding me," says Catra. She shakes her head. "No, you've got to be messing with me. You don't actually call yourselves the _Best Friend Squad_."  
  
Adora doesn't say anything.  
  
"Who the hell came up with that?"  
  
More silence.  
  
And before she can help it, Catra doubles over in laughter. That name is so ridiculously Adora, it hurts. She squeezes her eyes shut to keep the tears from streaming, but she can't help from wheezing and hiccuping like a cheerleader who caught a football to the gut. Catra lost everything to a group of people that call themselves the _Best Friend Squad_ , of all things. The thought makes her laugh harder.  
  
"Did you just snort?"   
  
Catra gasps for breath. She shakes her head furiously, which causes her to snort again. And suddenly, Adora is giggling too. The Mercedes fills with senseless laughter, only broken apart when angry honks behind them alert the traffic's cleared up ahead.  
  
Breathless, the two girls ride the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

Catra has to stop to drink in Adora's dorm. It's a big, elegant, modern building made of polished white stone that shimmers in the sun. Entrapta would call it nothing short of an architectural masterpiece. Adora types a code into the keypad outside, and the doors to the building unlock.  
  
The lobby, much like the rest of the East side, screams privilege. Handmade carpets are draped over the rich hardwood floors, and chandeliers spill golden light into the room. Catra feels like someone like her would be lucky to lick the floor, nevertheless walk on it.   
  
But if there's anything Catra's good at, it's swallowing the doubts that like to creep up on her at the worst possible moments. And right now, faced with all the East side's charm and glamour that dazzled Adora away from her, Catra has to ignore the insecurities that claw at her stomach.  
  
She strolls towards the sleek elevator with Adora as though she's never done anything else. It dings when they reach the third floor. Catra follows Adora through the bright hallway until she stops at a door that reads _314B_.   
  
Adora knocks gently. There's a click, and the door swings open almost immediately.  
  
"Did you forget your ke-- oh," begins Bow. He steps out of the way so the girls can enter. "You found her."  
  
Catra kicks her sneakers off. She glances around the apartment. "Spacious."  
  
"Yeah, the Academy gave us a bigger room since there's three of us," explains Adora.  
  
"So the Best Friend Squad aren't just besties, you're also roomies?" Catra raises an eyebrow. "Where's the reality show?"

"We couldn't get a network to pick it up," jokes Adora. "Different sports, clubs, and summer classes have all of us on our own schedules. It's not like it was last semester. Things are surprisingly quiet around here."  
  
Bow nods. "Except on board game nights."  
  
Adora laughs. " _Except_ on board game nights."  
  
Catra leans against the wall. "Looks like you could use some excitement then, huh?"  
  
And while she meant to say it dryly, she must have accidentally drawled it in that low, flirty way she defaults to when she's nervous, because Bow wiggles his eyebrows and gives Adora a pointed look.   
  
She flushes a soft pink. "Let's just go to my room."  
  
Catra chuckles. "Already? Easy now, Adora, I've barely got my shoes off--"  
  
"Shut it." Her cheeks burn a deeper red. She snatches Catra by the wrist and drags her to her room, leaving Bow to cackle to himself at the front door.

* * *

Adora's bed is just like Catra remembers it.   
  
It's got warm fluffy blankets, a mattress so soft you could drown in it, and more pillows than one girl could ever need. Catra settles down gently. She sits on the edge of the bed, while Adora paces around her room.   
  
"Soo... what now?" asks Catra.  
  
"I mean, I don't know," admits Adora. "I need to talk to Glimmer when she comes home from class."  
  
"I bet she'll be happy to see me." The image of Glimmer glaring daggers into her from the passenger seat of Bow's car is still fresh in Catra's mind. She's definitely not Catra's biggest fan. And her snooty, preppy attitude doesn't rub Catra the right way either.  
  
Adora scoffs. "Oh, yeah. She loves it when I hide missing people in our dorm."  
  
"I'm not the first? And here I thought I was special."  
  
Adora bites her lip. "You never told me what happened."  
  
"It was just the same stupid shit as always." Catra laughs bitterly. "Bet you're happy you got out when you did, aren't you?"  
  
"Wouldn't you be?"  
  
"I would never have gotten to go, Adora," explains Catra tiredly. She looks down at her hands. "Why can't you understand this? I don't get opportunities like that. That's not how things work for me."  
  
Suddenly, Catra thinks back to her fight with her friends. How readily they abandoned her, lied to her, then blamed her for getting upset. How they stood aside for years while Weaver tormented her, and probably never bothered looking for her when she ran away. She knows they're all victims of the same shitty situation. All they've ever had is each other.  
  
But why was it so easy for them to turn on her?   
  
Maybe she did it to herself. She let it happen, always too sorry to stick up for herself.   
  
Catra sighs. "It's been a long day, and I haven't slept right in weeks. Is it okay if I take a quick nap?"   
  
Adora nods. "Yeah, totally, of course, I mean we can talk whenever--"  
  
"Do you have an iPhone charger?" Catra figures she should let her friends know she's alive.  
  
She points to a white cable poking out from behind the headrest. Catra immediately starts to fiddle with the cord to plug her phone in. Adora starts to leave, but then she freezes in the doorframe, turns around, and admits, "I don't know what the right thing to say is anymore."  
  
Catra looks up, lips parted slightly. "That's because this isn't about right or wrong, anymore."  
  
She gulps. "It's something else?"   
  
Catra nods slowly. "Yeah, it's something else."  
  
Adora turns to go.  
  
"Hey, Adora?"   
  
"Yeah?" She tilts her head.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
A small smile splits Adora's rosy cheeks. She shrugs. "It's no big deal. Just rest, and we'll talk later."  
  
And in spite of all the yelling in the car, and all the pain and hurt and confusion that's still between them, Catra falls asleep easily in Adora's bed. Her pillow smells like lilacs and vanilla, and when Catra closes her eyes, she can almost believe she's home.


	10. Chapter 10

Catra sprints down the hill, and towards the familiar little condo she grew up in.   
  
She feels like she's running on air. She laughs breezily. She blinks, and Adora's there. Her blue eyes sparkle in the pink morning light, and her bright smile mirrors Catra's. Then Catra blinks again, and suddenly Scorpia and Lonnie are there too. They go so fast, they kick up clouds of dust behind them.  
  
But no matter how fast they run, they don't get any closer to the Horde. It sits at the bottom of the hill: untouchable, a challenge. Catra picks up her pace. She looks around, and suddenly her friends are gone.   
  
Her legs move a little faster, but it's like she's running on a treadmill. She can't get any closer to the Horde. Catra can hear her blood pumping.  
  
She can't remember if she's running _towards_ something, or _away_ from something.  
  
It's dark. She runs faster.   
  
And then she jolts awake, gasping for air. She grips Adora's blanket tightly, and her hair sticks to the cold sweat sheening her skin.   
  
When Catra finally managers to convince herself she's alright, and quiets the roaring behind her ears, she realizes she can make out hushed arguing in the next room.  
  
Guess Sparkles must be back.   
  
Catra groans. She cleans herself up in Adora's washroom, then joins the others in the living room. 

* * *

"Glimmer, it'll only be for a few days," reasons Bow. He puts a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
  
Sheepishly, Adora adds, "Actually, it might be a bit mo--"  
  
"I don't care!" exclaims Glimmer. She swats off Bow's hand. "You didn't even think to ask me before bringing a _criminal_ into our apartment!"  
  
"Criminal? Really?" Bow laughs. "Now you're being ridiculous."  
  
"Fine. If she's not a criminal, then she's at least a _stranger_!" Glimmer throws her hands up in the air. She hops off the sofa, and begins to pace the room.  
  
"Oh, come on, Glim! She and Adora grew up together!"  
  
"They haven't spoken in a _year_ ," sneers Glimmer. " _A year_. A lot can change in that time. She may as well be a stranger."   
  
Bow turns to Adora, expecting a rebuttal, but her eyes are fixed on the carpet. He frowns.   
  
Before he can say anything, Glimmer continues, "And the last time they saw each other, it was to help her r _un away from the police_. You remember how shaken up Adora was when she got back in the car? And now we're going to help this girl hide from the authorities again?! Why?!"  
  
"Are you always this loud, Sparkles?"  
  
Everyone's eyes dart to Catra, leaning lazily against the door frame to Adora's room. She picks at her nails, feigning boredom. No one says anything for a while.  
  
"Catra," Adora breaks the silence, her voice a delicious mix of joy, disbelief, and nervousness. "How'd you sleep?"  
  
It's nice being the one intruding on her life, thinks Catra. Even though she's in Adora's court, she's the one with the ball.  
  
She rolls her eyes dramatically. "You really don't need that many pillows, Adora. I felt like I was drowning in your bed."  
  
"Isn't it soft?" grins Adora.  
  
"It's suffocating."  
  
"I'm taking that as a good thing."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
Their banter is interrupted by a long groan. Glimmer buries her face in her hands. She swallows the shriek that's rising in her throat, then forces a friendly smile. Robotically, she says, "I'm going to get some air," and lets herself out of the apartment.  
  
The door slams hard behind her. It sends tremors up the walls. A picture frame in the kitchen comes crashing down. The glass shatters into a million pieces, and scatters all across the tiles.  
  
"I'll, uh, go get that," smiles Bow. "And don't mind Glimmer, we're super happy to have you here."   
  
With that said, he scrambles to the broom closet.  
  
Catra raises an eyebrow. "I thought you said things were quiet around here, Princess."  
  
"Yeah..." replies Adora, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. She scoots to the end of the couch. "Glimmer isn't taking this as well as I thought she would."  
  
Catra hesitates to join her. "Should I go?"  
  
The last thing she needs is for Adora's crazy friend to tip off the police. Catra can just go back to the Happy Mart tomorrow, pick up her paycheck, and take the next bus to the city. That was the plan she was coming up with this morning, wasn't it?  
  
Truthfully, Catra can barely remember. She knows that she spent her shift lost in thought, dreaming up her next move, but whatever she'd come up with was forgotten as soon she ran into Adora.   
  
Because when Adora was looking at her like that, holding her like that, kissing her like that, how could Catra say no? How could she even think about leaving?  
  
Things were easier a month ago, when Catra hated her. But now, she feels like a rowboat racing down rapids. No matter how hard she tries to fight against the current, she can't go back.   
  
"No," says Adora quickly. "No, you just need to give her time. She'll come around eventually."  
  
" _Eventually_?" Catra bites her lip. "Adora, how long do you think I'm going to stay here?"  
  
Adora shrugs stiffly.  
  
"Adora..." begins Catra. She settles down cautiously on the opposite end of the couch. "Adora, I can't just _live_ here. I don't even go to this school--"  
  
"I-I _know_ that," hisses Adora. She runs a hand through her perfect hair, tousling it the way she always does when she's stressed. "Just give it a few weeks."  
  
"Weeks?!" laughs Catra. "I was thinking _days_ , at most!"  
  
"Days? Really? Where are you planning on going?!"  
  
"I don't know, maybe I'll rent someplace--"  
  
Adora scoffs. "Rent? On a single, minimum-wage pay check? Good luck finding a-- wait, where the hell were you living before?"  
  
She decides not to answer.  
  
Adora's eyes soften. She reaches for Catra's hand, and that's when Catra notices that they're suddenly right next to each other. "You can _stay here_ ," she murmurs. "I promise, Glimmer will warm up to you."  
  
"No," states Catra. She pulls away from Adora's touch. "No, I don't want your pity, okay? And I don't want to stay in your East side palace with your sparkly friends any longer than I have to."  
  
But Adora's gentle smile doesn't falter. "I just want you safe, Catra. I want you close."  
  
Close. She definitely was close to Adora, their bodies leaning into each other. No. This can't happen again. If she's going to move on from the Horde, if she's going to leave her old life behind, she has to leave all of it. Catra shoots to her feet, tearing herself out of Adora's bubble as forcefully as she can, and blurts, "I've got work tomorrow morning."  
  
"Work," repeats Adora. Almost in disbelief. Almost proudly. "Okay. I have a class at seven, so maybe Bow can drive you."  
  
As painful as the idea of being alone in a car with Bow sounds, Catra doesn't have much of a choice if she wants to pick up her paycheck and get the fuck out of here. "Alright, thanks."  
  
Adora nods. Quietly, she turns on the TV.   
  
Catra glances at the empty spot next to her. She decides against sitting there. "I'm just gonna... you know."   
  
Adora turns to look at her. "Oh. Yeah, sure, wherever you're comfortable. But, um, Friends is on, and it's a lot better than Scrubs or Grey's or whatever Lonnie would force us to watch back then." Her voice is a pitch too high to be casual. She knows she's asking for a lot.  
  
But Catra is too. She rolls her eyes and says, "Trust me, Grey's is way better than the Discovery Channel."  
  
" _Discovery Channel_? Whose pick was _that_?!"  
  
"I haven't told you about Entrapta?" Catra chuckles to herself. "God, she's crazy. The first day she moved in, she sanded down my dresser. And used your side of the room as like, a laboratory."  
  
"No way. Well, when I first moved in, Glimmer glued googly eyes to everything in our dorm. Coffee maker, fridge, showerhead, _everything_. Even my closet. She thought it was funny." Adora shudders at the memory. "It was actually kind of creepy."  
  
And before Catra knows it, she's sitting next to her, and they're sharing stories over the sitcom's laugh track. The television flickers in front of them, painting Adora's face with coloured light, and suddenly Catra feels helpless.  
  
She's a rowboat racing down rapids, and behind Adora's bright blue eyes is a waterfall she might already be falling down.

* * *

It's late in the evening when Glimmer comes home.  
  
Adora and Bow argue in the kitchen over what to cook for dinner.  
  
"No!" says Bow sternly. He stomps his foot down dramatically. "No more ramen! We always have ramen."  
  
"So?" asks Adora. "It's cheap and easy and--"  
  
"We have a _guest_!" hisses Bow, as though Catra wasn't sitting on the counter right behind him.  
  
She snickers. "Why don't I make us something? Joe seems a bit too fancy for me, and I distinctly remember Adora setting a toaster on fire--"  
  
"Hey!" shouts Adora. She turns to face Catra, her eyes bright and playful. "Everything in the Horde is half-broken. That wasn't my fault."  
  
Bow laughs. "Alright, case closed. Adora, you're out. Let me handle dinner."   
  
He tries to push Adora out of the kitchen, but she huffs indignantly and pushes against him. Though he's strong, he's no match for Adora. Catra tries to tear her eyes away from the tense, effortlessly large muscles rippling down her back.   
  
She gulps. Fuck tank tops.  
  
"No!" cries Adora. She gives Bow a hard shove, and he stumbles out of her way. "No. We're both cooking. The only person who should be out of the kitchen is _you_." And at that, she turns to face Catra, her face flushed and her eyebrows furrowed in a look of steely determination. "Go away and let us make you food."  
  
Briefly, Catra considers standing her ground. Not because she cares about cooking, of course. Only to be an ass. But all it takes is one look in Adora's stony eyes to know that she will carry her into the living room if need be.  
  
And maybe it's nostalgia, or maybe it's because it's just so damn easy to pretend that everything is how it used to be again, but Catra knows if Adora's strong, comforting arms wrap around her, she'll never find safety anywhere else.  
  
So Catra chuckles, "Easy now, Princess. I'm going." She hops off the counter and saunters out of the room deftly. "Try not to set another toaster on fire."   
  
When Catra retreats to the living room, she plans on lounging lazily on the couch. She doesn't plan on seeing Glimmer there, curled up in a small ball.  
  
Catra begins to back away slowly, like a startled hiker who's bumped into a bear. Maybe Glimmer didn't notice her come in.  
  
But of course she has, because as soon as Catra starts to go, Glimmer looks up at her darkly and says, "I don't like you."  
  
A million possible responses fly through Catra's mind. Don't poke the bear, she tells herself. Not if you're sleeping in its cave. She settles with a simple, "Lots of people don't."  
  
Glimmer shakes her head. Lowly, she repeats, "I don't like you. And it's not a me thing; It's an Adora thing."  
  
Catra crosses her arms. "Alright there, Sparkles, let's not start talking about things we don't understand."  
  
"I don't know what kind of fucked up game you're playing with her, I don't know what you want from her, I don't know if you're using her... I don't know a lot," begins Glimmer. "But I do know this: she likes you so much, she'll throw away this whole new life she built for you. And you'd let her."  
  
"I'll be out of your cute pink hair soon enough, Sparkles. I'm not planning on sticking around, don't you worry."  
  
Hearty laughter floats over from the kitchen.  
  
Glimmer shakes her head.  
  
"And that won't be worse?" She stands up defiantly and marches up to Catra. When they're face-to-face, it's clear that Catra is a lot bigger than her, but Glimmer doesn't even seem to notice. She lifts her chin, her gaze scathing hot, and for a moment Catra feels like she's the one who's being looked down on. "I don't like you, Catra, because I know that no matter what happens, you're going to leave a big mess behind. And Bow and I are the ones who are going to have to pick up the pieces again."

* * *

Dinner isn't as awkward as Catra feared it would be.  
  
Bow and Adora settled on grilled cheese sandwiches and orange juice. It's only when they're finished setting the table that Bow notices Glimmer's back.  
  
"Oh! Hey!" he exclaims cheerfully. "When'd you come home?"  
  
Glimmer shrugs. "Not too long ago."  
  
Bow's smile falters. It's clear she's upset. Carefully, he says, "I made some extra in case you'd be back. Do you want to join us?"  
  
For a moment, it looks like she's going to say no, but then she cracks an honest half-smile and says, "Sure, Bow."  
  
Everyone takes a seat at the table. Catra is surprised at how soft the seats are, at how soft literally everything in this stupid apartment is.  
  
At first, she doesn't say much. She just listens to the easy conversation flowing between Glimmer, Bow, and Adora. They talk about their classes, about the campus, about Adora's upcoming soccer game.   
  
It's strange. Isn't Glimmer mad at everyone? Yet she's still _there_ , and kind, and lively, and reliable.   
  
Catra's taken back to Rogelio's awkward breakfast. She remembers her friends actively lying to her and avoiding her questions. She remembers slamming her fork down and storming out of the room.   
  
"Jeez, Adora," remarks Bow. "You wolfed that down. And here I thought, in front of Catra, you'd try to eat a bit more proper."  
  
Mouth full, Adora shakes her head. "She's already seen it all. More!"  
  
Chuckling, Bow passes her the plate of sandwiches. She takes another two.  
  
Catra finds herself facinated by the dynamic. She watches how any time Glimmer wants more salad, Adora wordlessly passes her the bowl. And how any time Bow's cup seems to be empty, Glimmer will fill it knowingly.  
  
In the Horde, it felt like everyone had to look out for themselves. But here, in everything they do, Adora's friends seem to look out for each other. Even their fights come out of concern for one another, rather than betrayal against each other.  
  
It's totally foreign.  
  
"So... Catra," begins Bow. "I hear I'm driving you to work tomorrow?"  
  
"You have a job?" asks Glimmer. "Shocker."  
  
Adora glares at her.  
  
Catra shrugs. "She's not wrong. I still can't believe it myself. And I don't have a shift tomorrow, I just need to pick up my pay."  
  
"It's not direct deposit?" asks Bow.  
  
"You think Weaver would let any of us start a bank account? Funny. I have to be paid in cash."  
  
Glimmer takes a sip of her juice. "Oh, wow. Is that even legal?"  
  
"Probably not. No taxes," shrugs Catra. "But you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone on the West side who cares."  
  
Adora laughs between bites. "That's true. No one gave a damn, there. It made for some fun summers, though. Once, we spray-painted a whole mural. It took us all of July, and it washed away the next Spring, but it was super cool. You should see Catra draw--"  
  
"Shut it, Adora, it looked like a mess," says Catra. "We were like twelve."  
  
"It made Drug Alley look a lot more colourful, though."  
  
Glimmer almost spits up her food. " _Drug Alley_?"  
  
Bow laughs.  
  
"That was the hangout spot," shrugs Catra. She turns to Adora. "I didn't think you remembered the name."  
  
"It's pretty on the nose. Kind of hard to forget." Adora wipes her mouth with a napkin. "Besides, a year isn't that long, Catra."  
  
"I guess maybe it isn't."

* * *

Night falls as it always does: gradually, then suddenly.  
  
And Catra lies in Adora's bed, snuggled beneath the thick blankets, realizing she's found comfort the same way.  
  
When Adora comes in, she doesn't flick the light on. She had stayed up later to watch a film with Glimmer and Bow, while Catra had opted to go to bed early because there's only so much of the Best Friend Squad she can tolerate without getting a cavity.   
  
Adora settles down on the floor.  
  
Catra can't ignore the guilt gnawing at her. "We can switch," she offers. "I bet the floor's more comfy than my old mattress at the Horde, anyways."  
  
Adora startles. "Fuck, did I wake you? I tried to be quiet--"  
  
"No, I've been up," replies Catra. "Just texting."  
  
"Oh," says Adora. She hesitates before risking a question. "Who?

"Uh, Entrapta, actually."  
  
Adora snorts. "The science girl? How is she?"  
  
The question hangs in the air before Catra can finally bring herself to answer it. “She's being driven crazy by her new roommate, actually."  
  
" _Oh_ ," says Adora again. And this time, she doesn't say anything else.  
  
"I guess there really is no going back, huh? Not that I was planning on it, but... I don't know."  
  
"I get it." Adora's voice is gentle, and for once Catra believes that she really does understand her, this time. "I felt kind of similar when I left. I knew I wasn't, you know, but... It still feels like a door slammed in your face, huh?"  
  
"You'd think I'd get used to this feeling," mutters Catra bitterly.  
  
Adora can't stop herself from bursting out in laughter. The melodic sound shreds through the night's silence like a guitar by a campfire; so nice, so normal, so expected. Catra feels herself smiling back.   
  
"My life sucks, doesn't it?"  
  
"Big time." She can hear Adora's grin. "You know, Catra, you can stay here. You can."  
  
Lying in Adora's bed, talking to her from across the room while they both stare up at the ceiling, laughing, dreaming, and reminiscing like they used to, drains Catra of all the hostility she's hidden behind the past year.   
  
It’s scary. No matter how many times she's been hurt, her walls have never crumbled.  
  
But then Adora says, "Please, I want you to," and they finally feel like they're coming down.  
  
"I--" she begins, but she doesn't know what will happen if she says what she so desperately wants to say, so she says, "You can sleep up here."  
  
And Adora doesn't say anything. But Catra sees something shifting in the darkness, before a soft weight dips the other side of the bed. The blankets tug towards Adora, and though the two of them don’t touch, they come painfully close.  
  
The air between them is electrically charged. It's raw, and honest, and it almost beckons Catra to make a bad decision.  
  
Then Adora, her golden hair pouring over her face, whispers again, "Please, Catra. I want you."  
  
And Catra doesn't even know who closed the distance, but suddenly her lips are on Adora's, and she doesn't know why she wasted her life doing anything but kissing her. She grabs her waist from beneath the sheets and presses her close. Her head is spinning, and she's acutely aware of Adora's fiery touch creeping up her shirt, and though she can't form a single coherent thought, she wonders why everything was ever so complicated?  
  
Because this? Adora's lips on her's, her fingers tangled in her hair, the silence that swallows them whole but sets them both free all at once, is the most simple thing Catra has ever experienced in her life.  
  
It's real. It's _right_.   
  
It's there, and it's her's, and maybe it's all the talking that muddled it all up.  
  
So when Adora pulls away, and pleads "Stay," her breath hot against Catra's neck, how can she do anything but grab her face, pull her back in, and breathe, "Yeah, okay."  
  
And tomorrow is forgotten, because Catra holds her past, her present, and her future in her arms, and she's not letting it go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i THINK it will be two more chapters but honestly it's probably going to be more like four. i still wanted to have an end in sight, yknow? cuz we're close.
> 
> also haha there's still lots to solve and i think we all know it won't be this easy... but it's nice. easy is nice. enjoy this


End file.
